Enemy In Shadows
by Shakaka
Summary: Having mostly forgotten her nameless past in order to survive the life of an assassin under Storm Shadow's command, a series of eventful missions awakens Sage's history and slaps her rudely in the face. The past she'd forgotten about - the past she'd hidden away - is now sprawled out in the open, and it's not as simple as she thought. - Sequel to 'Dark Alliance.' ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I am **not** Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do **not** own his works. What I **ADD** into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the **original** themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

**Important Author's Note:** Hi everyone! So, this is the second 'book', or sequel, to Dark Alliance (a G. I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra fanfic). If you have not done so already, I suggest you read 'Dark Alliance' before this story, otherwise you will not understand the plotline. Thanks.

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**Chapter One**

The tall slender blonde-haired criminal crossed the courtyard with a calm oozing grace that made the other prisoners about her glare. Every movement of her body conveyed something close to smug confidence, and it only acted to provoke those closest to her. But they shrunk back reluctantly when she passed; to follow her with their dark eyes. She was a pretty sight to look at—as many had observed—but none had been brave enough to confront her. They knew what she was capable of, they knew of her deadly skill, despite her innocent appearance, and they would rather keep their heads than their pride.

Although that didn't stop them staring.

The courtyard she moved in was large, consisting of a stereotypical American basketball court, a cement-floored outside gym, and a large area littered with metal tables and benches bolted to the ground. Guards moved quietly over the roofs above the prisoners' heads, their guns ready in hand to either wound or kill anyone that disturbed the natural order, but as far as prisons went, Sage didn't much mind Alcatraz. Despite its isolation from the rest of the world, and the fact that it held some of the ugliest criminals on the planet behind its walls, the prison was actually cosy. That was, however, excluding the fact that she'd made enemies with almost every inmate in here; and the majority of the guards. That was just how badass she was—but they mostly left her alone. The ignorant ones had already taken a few jabs at her down in the laundry rooms in the past, but she soon taught them not to mess with her. Especially when she broke someone's arm they called Red...

And the guards didn't much care what went on between the prisoners. As long as no one attacked one of their own, they left everyone else to fend for themselves, ignorant of the multiple bashings taking place in hidden locations throughout the building. It was something Sage liked to call 'hard-love'—although, really, it didn't faze her in any way. She was in this hellhole for life—G. I. Joe had made sure of that. By revealing to the hierarchy all her illegal crimes carried out under multiple disguises, she was immediately and without hesitation or justice sentenced to a life's serving in the hardest prison of America.

She'd suffered worse.

The Joes, while at it, had also showed the police her multiple alliances—in particular Storm Shadow, Baroness, and Cobra himself. But they termed the two men dead; and even if they did miraculously come back to life, they'd have to hide. After all, the Joes were still hunting down Baroness, who'd, allegedly, survived the attack back at the G. I. Joe base a few years ago...

But then, they probably wouldn't tell Sage if Baroness was caught. They'd most likely separate the two criminals to different prisons halfway across the world so they couldn't communicate—not that Sage much cared for the black-haired bimbo...

Let's just say she wasn't going to get out of here anytime soon—so they thought. And she let it remain that way, to help them sleep at night. She definitely didn't need a personal guard standing post outside her cell every second of every day, following her around like a shadow because she was too cunning. That would not sit well with her patience—or lack thereof.

"Get back in your cells, prisoners!" A guard called unexpectedly from above, on the roof of a building overlooking the women in the exercise yard below. The sudden command made a few glance up to him, and he shifted the gun in his hands as if to reinforce his words. Sage, sighing, melted in with the rest of the crowd obediently filing back into the institution. As far as she was concerned, she was _not_ going to be shot today.

Once inside the building, Sage turned left and ascended the wide set of steel stairs toward the second level, and from there climbed to the third. _Thirteenth cell on the right_. That was her space, her home, her prison, and entering it quietly she crossed to the thin-sheeted white bed. Sitting down with her back against the grey stone wall and her legs hanging out over the edge, she stared out of her cell as the steel-barred door buzzed loudly and slid across to seal her off from the rest of the constrained world. Across the vast expanse of nothing—space created by the stairs leading up from the storey below—Sage caught the dark-eyed gaze of a fellow inmate. Another enemy, by the way they spat at the ground in disgust in her direction. Sage raised a taunting brow, and then looked away. These criminals deserved none of her opinion.

Instead, Sage focussed on the situation at hand. The prison had been locked down early, because usually the prisoners didn't retire to their cells until late in the afternoon, so what was going on?

As if providing a source to answer her question, the loud _clunk_, _clunk_ of thick, rubber-soled boots made Sage glance out into the hall. Sliding from her bed, she crept toward the exit of her cell and gripped at the sturdy steel bars lightly, staring accusingly at the guard passing before her.

"Hey, sir!" she called, and the man turned a permanent scowl upon her, pausing in his strolling along the balcony outside. His glare would have made most women cower, but then again, Sage wasn't most women. "What's going on?"

There was silence as the guard shifted the black baton in his hand, almost like a warning for if she stepped out of line too much, and then shrugged. "You've got visitors."

"_Visitors?_" she questioned in disbelief. He nodded, grunting, and glanced down the walkway briefly. "Who said they were allowed?"

"The President." his words were nothing but a grumble, yet Sage understood. Shifting anxiously, she observed with her steely-eyed gaze how he obviously didn't like talking to her. She frowned. The _President?_ Why would the President be interested in Alcatraz?

The guard looked back to her, answering her perplexed stare aimed at the floor, "Said we should be treating you dogs with a little more 'humanness'." He snorted, sceptical. Sage rolled her eyes. His poke at her status with _dog_—the lowest insult a prisoner could hear behind bars—didn't really faze her. But the visitor part did. "Now get back from the cell door before I make you." He threatened, agitated by her closeness to him. Sage smirked quietly, but let go of the bars and backed away into the shadows of her cell. There, she melted into the darkness, and watched as the guard glanced her way worriedly before continuing on his patrol.

None of the guards liked how she could camouflage in the shadows. But that was what made her stay all the more fun. Agitating the guards—the only authoritative bodies that, if they wanted to, had complete and utter freedom to belt the living shit out of her—was humorous.

Yes, she liked to play with death. And yes, she was reckless as hell. But it was what she'd been doing her whole life. And as they say: '_old habits die hard_.'

"Ariel Gallow!" a bodiless called from down the hall, and Sage cringed at the use of her full birth name. She looked up as her cell door opened and moved from the shade. Stepping out quietly, she poised herself in a docile manner so she wouldn't receive a surprise baton in the back that forced her to her knees, and gazed around. Various faces were turned toward her behind their bars as she appeared, but not all of them were hateful. Some were curious, which Sage understood. Most of the criminals here had heard rumours—or, rather, legends—about her dark past as an assassin. Most of them were true.

Slowly, and almost mockingly, she lifted her arms at the gun pointed toward her down the hall. It wasn't like she was going to try anything. Yet.

"You have a visitor." The guard stated, beckoning her forward with a hand just as a foreign object poked into her back that she realised was the barrel of another gun, most likely a rifle. Complying was all Sage could do to prevent herself from ripping the hidden man's head off.

And for the second time that day, Sage frowned. Who would want to visit _her?_ Most of her alliances were dead, or their ties had been severed. The only person she could think of was Baroness, and she doubted the woman had enough balls to waltz in here. Besides, she'd only come in here to spite Sage, and even though the hate between them was intense, she doubted it was lethal.

Walking slowly with her arms constantly in the air, Sage neared the guard. He signalled her to stop and turn around, and she obeyed. Clasping her hands together behind her back, she got a good glimpse of the man previously hidden. He was young, green, and probably easy to overwhelm despite the muscular strength in his arms. His attempt at intimidation with the gun showed his unsureness around her, his fear of her, and it made her smile. He looked away quickly.

Cool steel handcuffs closed around her wrists and she was spun about roughly before being towed—or rather dragged—down the hall.

Too bad the guards in here were predominantly men. She'd easily overpower any woman.

"Ariel Gallow, a _visitor?_" The more experienced guard mouthed smartly, pulling her from her musings. "Who knew? Being an assassin, I would have thought that no one gave a fucking rat's ass about you. That, or the fact that you'd ruthlessly killed everyone who cared, after you grew tired of their bullshit." Sage couldn't help but smile—humourlessly—at the guard's taunting words. He wasn't going to frazzle her that easily.

"No," she replied nonchalantly, as if they were having a nice stroll in the park. The guard tensed at her eerily calm tone. "They killed themselves, really. I only spurred on their inevitable deaths, like the angel of death or some shit."

And only one of their deaths hurt.

_Storm Shadow_.

But she'd learnt to deal with it. Why mourn when nothing would come of it? She needed to stay strong; to not let life's shit hand throw you into the deepest pits of hell. Especially in this prison.

As she was dragged along, Sage peeked glances at both guards. The one holding her had a calm, possibly even relaxed, composure while handling her, which contrasted quite comically with the younger, newer guard to her right. He walked stiffly and quickly, like a toey horse. His wary glances at the cells surrounding them showed his unease, and Sage sighed. If he hoped to survive in here amongst all these prisoners, he'd have to learn indifference. If the prisoners knew his weaknesses, they'd overpower him. Weakness was dangerous in a place like this.

Reaching the end of the walkway, Sage was shoved relentlessly down the stairs beside the seasoned guard who held her by the elbow. They did the same process on the second floor, and when they hit the bottom level, they crossed through the wide hall—under the vast intensity of all the gazes from murderers, rapers, terrorists and who knew what else hidden in the darkness of their cells lining the walls—to a set of plain white doors. Once through them, Sage continued down a dimly lit hallway and through a thick-steeled heavily guarded industrial exit, and into the visiting room.

White. That's all this prison was. No colour. No expression. It was as if the sheer plainness of the building was trying to purify the inhabitants within its walls, stripping them of their dark thoughts and deeds. Perhaps it was like a subconscious therapy, only it was backfiring and driving the heartless further toward insanity. Because wasn't white used in madhouses?

Sage didn't know, she'd never been to one. But it seemed logical.

Crossing the room, the blonde criminal was shoved roughly into the seat opposite a broad-shouldered, drooped-headed form. The guards drew back while she stayed seated to line the wall behind her, and then the person across from Sage lifted their head.

All the breath left her in a _whoosh_ as she stared at the icy blue gaze of the one enemy she had never been able to kill. Not that Cobra wasn't an enemy too...but he was dead.

The aged face smiled slightly, revealing perfect white teeth behind plump pink lips. The corners of his mouth crinkled good-naturedly, and a sly spark of anonymity flashed in his eyes—but was just as quickly gone. Sage broke eye contact and glanced up to his short-cropped sandy-brown hair, before doing an once-over.

He was as fresh and tidy as ever. No stubble littered his chin. No wounds shadowed his face. He looked one hundred percent perfect and healthy. And when he spoke, her gut coiled in apprehension, and then rippled in anger.

"Hello, Sage."

It was the exact same deep-tenor voice she'd heard years ago. Everything about him, really, was identical. He was just as calm, composed and daunting. His appearance was indistinguishable.

He hadn't changed a bit.

Blinking, swallowing, and nodding, Sage remained closed, her face a mask, as she greeted the one man who had had the guts and the skill to put her in here. This figure before her was the last man she saw before she was put behind bars, and now he had come back to haunt her.

Deciding to keep her past reputation of pride on a high scale, Sage spoke quietly, but her eyes were a fierce storm. "Hello, Hawk." She was stiff, her words like ice. Her hands convulsed into fists, and her throat constricted in pain. "It's been a while."

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**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated! xx


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I am **not** Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do **not** own his works. What I **ADD** into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the **original** themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

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**Chapter Two**

General Clayton M. Abernathy, also known as Tomahawk, or more fondly, Hawk, leant back quietly in his chair as Sage bored holes through his head with her fiery blue-eyed gaze. Silently, he had to admit, she _was_ intimidating—but there was nothing physical she could do in here. Not with the guards milling about, the security cameras in the corners, and the doubt that she was stupid enough to even try.

So obviously glaring at somebody as if you could _will_ them to their death wasn't really punishable abuse, it was just harsh. But Hawk could deal with that, and soon after, he realised that Sage was not going to be the one to break the heavy silence. He sighed.

"I've come with a proposition."

As his voice rang quietly through the room, Sage woke to him, and slowly, and with the slightest incline of her head, cocked a brow in dry humour. What could he promise, when she was sentenced to life in here? A new alliance? For what? This wasn't happy-fucking-tree-friends_._ This was doom and gloom. This was her dismal future.

"If you decide to work with me"—he leant forward, resting his green-sleeved elbows on the sterile white plastic table and meeting her eyes eagerly—"I could get you out of here."

Sage blinked slowly, reclining back in her chair mutely. What did he mean 'get her out'? He couldn't do that, could he?

And he'd said _with_ not _for_. That was a surprise. He was actually giving her a choice...

His voice was quiet as he continued, so the guards in the room couldn't hear them. "I am a patient man, Sage, but I do not have the time to allow you the luxury to ponder your choices. You must make this decision quickly: work with me and earn your freedom, or die here."

Hmm...It was a hard choice, she had to admit. Work with the enemy, or live in a shithole for the rest of her life? Sage wasn't sure...

Of course, she could betray G. I. Joe as soon as she got the chance. Desert them and run...

And she was in dire need of a little bit of action. The puny fights her fellow inmates supplied was pathetic, to say the least. She needed to break a sweat, feel the thrill of a mission, _do_ _something_ to spike her adrenalin.

So, naturally, she was in.

Leaning forward with her arms still chained behind her back, Sage looked up to meet the General's piercing cerulean-eyed gaze. A small smile unfurled across her pink lips, her eyes sparkled, but her heart—the part dedicated to Storm Shadow—hissed at her quietly. She ignored it.

"I'm in." Hawk's face visibly relaxed at her choice, and he stood up eagerly. Nodding once at the guards, he seized Sage by the arm and dragged her to his side. One of the men—the older, more gutsy one—stepped forward quickly.

"What are you doing?" He demanded as Sage began to walk, and Hawk paused in midstride toward the door, glancing back over his shoulder with that cold, piercing blue gaze Sage remembered so well.

"I put her in here," he said quietly, his words dripping with calm authority. Now that she listened, the tenor of his voice had changed slightly from what she remembered. "And as I see fit, I have the power to remove her."

But as the General took another step, distressed sirens blared out overhead, and Sage sighed.

Well, there went _that_ escape plan.

But Hawk didn't release his hold on her, not even when guards flooded the room and surrounded them. Instinctively, Sage tensed in readiness. If she had to fight, she would take down as many men as she could, even with her arms shackled behind her back. There were other ways to kill a person without your hands...

But Hawk's calming hand on her shoulder stopped her short. Slowly reaching into his pocket despite the various guns pointed at his head, Hawk drew out a piece of paper and flipped it open. "A government document," he began, waving it about. "From the President himself."

One guard, possibly the chief, stepped forth and snatched the paper from his grasp. His brows furrowed, and then he looked up, defeated. "I don't understand..." He muttered. "Her—she—she doesn't even deserve to _exist!_" Sage couldn't really say she was wounded by those words. She'd heard them plenty of times before. An assassin never really was favoured amongst the innocent community.

"I know, son." Hawk murmured, clapping the man on the shoulder and taking back the paper. "But I have my reasons."

That made Sage wary. _Like breeding me for a lethal weapon to take down what's left of Cobra_? _Yeah, _that's_ the peacekeeping the government has in mind_. She thought dryly.

And when the guard did not reply, Hawk tightened his grip over Sage's shoulder and marched her forward, ignoring the ranks of men parting in his wake respectively. His decorated chest dared anyone to stand against him, and the variety of metals adorning his pocket ensured they would lose.

Sage was somewhat disturbed by Hawk's presence. What he wanted with her, she didn't know. Neither did she know how he'd gotten a hold of her so easily. Did these guards, or the government, not care if this man walking her from the prison was a potential torturer, or worse?

Probably not, considering her dark past. They probably thought she deserved what was coming her way. Sage didn't blame them, but she didn't entirely agree with them, either. Her instinctive arrogance prevented her from giving up hope, or cracking in the darkness.

She was strong-willed. That was how she was raised. Nobody would change that.

Not even her.

And when Hawk reached the door to outside, Sage's gut twisted in excitement. She was finally getting out of here. After five years, she was escaping. Illegally.

Well, so _she_ thought. Maybe not the men of law, though. They believed every goddamn word that came out of Hawk's mouth like the fucking gospel. They knew power when they saw it, and they didn't dare mess with it.

Smart lads, they were.

Without hesitation, the door before Hawk's hand buzzed and slid open, and then Sage was dragged down the hallway rather roughly. It was out of character, even for Hawk.

Now that she got a good look at him, her brows drew together in uncertainty. Hawk had somehow shrunk slightly from his towering form when she first met him in his office, and glancing down to his boots, she remembered they were the same military combat shoes he'd worn that first day. His frame, too, seemed smaller, if only slightly. No average person would notice, but Sage did—she was trained that way—and it made her suspicious.

Perhaps it was just her surroundings. The hallways were, after all, quite large. They effectively dwarfed every person she had seen so far.

On the other hand, maybe her memory was faltering. She hadn't really exercised her mind all that much lately. Prisons were dead-ends, after all. No need to train for rocket science in here. As far as the authorities were concerned, you were stupid enough for getting yourself in this situation in the first place, books weren't going to help you.

Hawk glanced down to her as she stared, and his lip curled in disgust. She frowned. If he wanted her to work with him, didn't that mean he didn't hate her?

Or, maybe, she was just a hired gun, like she had been her whole life. Using her skills didn't always require fondness from her allies. Not that Sage cared.

But Hawk hadn't been so blatantly harsh in the past. He'd been a calm man, almost caring in his nature when he'd dealt with Sage at the base. So what changed?

A lot, she guessed. Maybe he was turning into an old nasty man. A lot could change in five years, after all. He didn't look all that old, though...

Reaching the end of the hallway, Sage was shoved through the next door and into what she guessed was the foyer. The woman behind the steel desk glanced up, and then did a double take at Sage's attire. She was, after all, still dressed as a criminal.

"Excuse me, sir," she began softly, and shrunk back when Hawk turned a withering glare upon her.

"President's consent." he muttered, his voice like ice. Even Sage flinched slightly.

That was another change about him. How odd. Maybe Sage had affected him more than she thought, with the attack at his base and the death of his sniper.

"O—oh..." She stumbled incoherently, and Hawk took that opportunity to drag Sage forward. In the silence that followed, she was pushed through the front doors, and for the first time in five years, stepped out to freedom.

Well, partial freedom. She was still held tightly by Hawk's massive hand, and guards were patrolling the outer fence of the island. But beyond the large electrified enclosure, Sage could see nothing but the sea. A smooth rolling mass of white-tipped waves that, for once, was peaceful.

So, Hawk had only been able to cross to this island when the seas were at their calmest. It made sense. The travel out here could be dangerous. Sage knew, she remembered when she was being transported by a small shabby boat that rocked, creaked and moaned with every tumultuous wave that hit its sides. In the end, she had run up onto the deck to empty her stomach of their queasy contents, and when she looked around, the fear had finally hit her.

The sea was nothing but a dark mass of crippling terror. Giant waves were reaching for her toes, and a cool salty mist was spitting at her face. The wind ripped through her lungs like icy daggers, and the cold stormy night made her crumble at the knees slightly.

That night of travelling was a fearsome event. She'd never been so unsettled in her life.

She hated the water, hated its depths. There was just something about not being able to touch the ground, not being able to see the bottom, which unnerved her. Perhaps it was a memory from her past. The inconceivable portion she couldn't remember. Perhaps an event that had unconsciously stuck to her nerves warned her of danger every time she neared the water...Of course, being on the island was a completely different story. There was solid ground here. No heaving waves or unsettling nausea. She was better on the land than she ever was on the sea.

But now she was going back on that boat. Hopefully this time, her ride would be more comfortable.

Realising now, Sage hadn't seen any other visitors about waiting to meet a prisoner. Maybe the other inmates had nobody, or maybe Hawk was the only one with enough guts to come to this place.

Moreover, maybe Hawk had arranged the whole thing to get Sage alone, to transport her in a way that she was isolated from any other civilian here. Probably more for their safety than hers. She was deadly, after all.

That was something she'd have to think about.

Turning around, the patrolling guards caught sight of Sage in the impending grip of Hawk and shifted their rifles warningly. Hawk paid them no heed, and drew out his effective weapon: the Paper of Permission from the President himself. Sage wanted to know what was on it, if it was so highly respected.

It was funny, seeing how a simple piece of manuscript with a few letters of writing and possibly even a signature could have such a vast effect on men of the law. It was just a piece of paper, destructed as easily as it was constructed. It could be burnt, it could be torn, and yet still, with all its evident weaknesses, it held power.

Sage had to be grateful, though. It _was_ saving her ass from a life full of boredom.

Nodding quickly, the guards allowed Hawk and his 'sidekick' through the gates and on toward the ship waiting at the docks. It wasn't a massive construction, but it wasn't that small, either. It had to be sturdy enough to survive what the sea would throw at it, after all, if she decided to.

Walking down the pier, Sage couldn't help but feel uneasy. She hated the water, and sitting on a boat for extended amounts of time didn't really help her frame of mind. But, ignoring this weakness, she stepped down from the wharf and onto the boat, feeling queasy at the slight rocking her new position held. Stepping down behind her, Hawk re-grasped her arm and towed her along the deck. She had to admit, the faded brown wood floor matched well with the flaking white paint walls, offering a feeling of ancient despair to the boat's already degrading quality.

As Sage reached the door to go down below deck, the motors of the ship began to whiz and purr, and then the transport began to move. Grimacing slightly, she ducked and descended the stairs into the dark room below.

Memories washed over her as she remembered the various bodies that had occupied this darkness. Criminals, just like her, waiting for their arrival at Alcatraz Island.

And now she was leaving them behind, to pursue her 'freedom'.

The word had never tasted so bittersweet.

* * *

Between the soft swaying of the waves outside and the soft lurching of her stomach within, Sage heard the distant sounds of civilisation reaching her ears after constant hours of never-ending silence. Hawk hadn't bothered to speak with her, and she'd liked it that way. Because then she could mull over things, and what the hell she was truly getting herself into. It was probably most safe to say she was walking blind. But that wasn't always a bad thing.

When the boat began to slow and then the engines all but cut out, Sage lifted her head from its position on the tattered couch and caught sight of Hawk's gaze directed her way. It was unsettling to say the least, and a dark emotion played out on his eyes she had no name to describe.

Sitting up was a little difficult with her hands handcuffed, but she managed to rub her face on her shoulder, and then stand. Hawk followed and walked past, signalling with a finger to trail him when he reached the stairs. Sighing, Sage approached, and was seized roughly by the elbow. Her face darkened. He would pay for all this manhandling, when she got the opportunity.

Jogging up the steps behind his hurried form, Sage blinked quietly at the bright world she was suddenly thrust into. Being trapped down below deck with no windows did that to a person's eyes. It was slightly painful.

Tugging on her arm, Hawk approached the dock and stepped off the boat. Because he was still holding Sage, she was tugged after him and had to launch herself to keep from tumbling down the space between the boat and the wharf. Glancing back, Hawk cocked a brow and Sage shot him daggers. "Asshole..." she muttered, and he chuckled.

"Good to see you're finally back, Sage. I was worried for a moment that the prison had subdued you too much. You were rather silent on the boat. Queasy traveller?"

"Maybe I just had nobody to hate while I was there." She hissed, yanking her arm from his grasp and glancing around. "And I was just fine on the boat, _Tomahawk_." She teased. The General shook his head sadly.

The people milling on the wharf were casting her wary glances, and Sage suddenly understood why. Dressed in the most notorious prisoner uniform with _Arkham Island Penitentiary_ stamped over her bright orange overalls wasn't really a comforting sight to the innocent civilians. And perhaps she wasn't meant to be looked at for long, because Hawk seized her roughly and hustled her briskly toward a sleek black van that had just pulled up. The door slid open, and Sage shuddered at the shadows inside. It was the stereotypical kidnapping vehicle people saw in movies, which was rather ironic. Why would the government need to kidnap her? With authority from such a high power, couldn't she just waltz through the streets like an undercover G. I. Joe?

Curiosity was beginning to form on Sage's lips as she watched Hawk glance around unsurely, as if looking for followers. Were Cobra's men looking for her too? Catching her taunting gaze, Hawk snarled and shoved her toward the door. "Get in." He hissed, and she raised a brow in defiance. He'd definitely changed.

Ignoring his command, Sage turned her back to the van and jutted her chin out at him. Growling, he made to step forward before hands at Sage's back unexpectedly seized her by the arms and dragged her inside. She stumbled and fell against a solid chest just as Hawk took one more glance around and then jumped inside, slamming the door shut.

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" She demanded, struggling against the hands on her arms. They were strong and solid, similar to an iron-grip she'd suffered from a certain black-clad ninja a few years ago.

"Oh _hell_ no." she hissed, kicking out blindly to clip a certain somebody on the shin. They grunted, but didn't release her.

Nope, not Snake Eyes. He would have counteracted her attack. But the vice grip was strong.

Hawk glanced at her as she struggled and reached up to scratch his head. Sage watched in horror as his sandy-blonde hair all but fell off and ended up in a fist by his side. It was a wig, and beneath it sat a short mass of mahogany hair.

Sage's gut plummeted. This really was a kidnapping. "What the _fu_—"She began before a cloth was shoved roughly over her mouth and nose and she struggled on impulse. She inhaled quickly before detecting the potently sweet smell of a certain sleep-inducing chemical.

_Chloroform_.

Goddammit.

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**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated! xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I am **not** Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do **not** own his works. What I **ADD** into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the **original** themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_Voices_. That was the first thing Sage heard, as cliché as that sounds. They were close, at her back, and murmuring lowly. One had a deep tenor that made him manly and mystique—almost charming. The other was gruff and slightly higher in pitch, but still distinctly masculine. Sage recognised one of them, the less striking tone, and the realisation jolted some unspoken surprise within her gut. But she remained unspoken. From past experiences, she'd learnt that playing dead was actually quite handy. Although this time, she was just playing sleep.

With that thought, the memories from very recent past events rushed back to her unexpectedly, like a burst of light. She hadn't really forgotten them, but now they were focussed in the centre of her mind: _Hawk's steely gaze, his harsh voice, the boat, the van, the struggle, the chloroform._..And as if waiting for her acknowledgement, an unexpected, splitting headache assaulted her skull. She grimaced, but bit her tongue to keep from groaning. It was painful, yes, and a bitch, but she needed to stay silent.

The voices cut through her pain: "—ow gets back. She should be awake by now..." The statement came from the deeper man with the gorgeous tenor. His words sounded doubtful, and his unsure tone received a curt reply from the other man. He reacted defensively, Sage could imagine the body action to go with it: furrowed brows, fierce gaze, hands lifted in the air for innocence. "It's not my fault if I overdosed her. I had to make sure she was knocked out!"

Now _that_ wasn't innocent.

As Sage listened, she realised the younger male's voice was almost identical to another man she knew. A man who dressed in white, consistently armed himself with two sharp katanas, and had a kickass stunning smile. A man who was dead.

_Storm Shadow_.

Sage's eyes flew open, purely on impulse, and her head twisted to the right. It took a second for her hair to catch up and rudely slap her on the cheek, but she disregarded the act as she was helplessly caught in the dark eyed gaze of the man before her. His facade was beautiful: his dark eyes were slanted, his face smooth and brown with light pink lips and highset cheekbones shadowed where the hard light of the room did not reach. He had a strong, angled jaw, and his short-cropped black hair was spiked haphazardly about his head. A loose, short-sleeved white shirt covered his powerful torso, untucked and loose. The pureness contrasted brightly against the smooth olive toning of his skin. His arms were strong, his shoulders broad. His figure was tall and slender, lithesome and deadly. Sage couldn't help it, she gasped.

The first thought she had was of that perfect white-clad ninja five years ago, but upon closer inspection, she realised the boy was younger—a lot younger, possibly a teenager—and yet he looked so_ much_ alike Storm Shadow. There were clear traits that both distinguished and unified the pair. He was different and similar, a clone and yet unique.

Within her mystified stare, the boy arched a brow. It was wonderful and seducing, exactly like Storm Shadow. Sage closed her eyes, turning her head away. Her heart was pounding. She breathed deep to calm it, and then lifted her head to gaze around the room.

It was beautiful. The walls were a stunning dark mahogany that was both smooth and rough. The floor was a thick, bright red carpet that crept softly between her bare toes. The furniture alternated between mahogany and black silk, and the fireplace...

_Wow_.

Sage's eyes widened as she glanced about, stunned by the chaste exquisiteness and splendour surrounding her. Ornate carvings of Japanese symbols rested in both the large wooden desk before her, upon the tall, thick frame of the fireplace behind that, and the wide double doors to her right.

This place was magnificent.

And through her stunned glances around the room, she didn't notice the figure that had stepped forth from her left to stand before her now. He was tall and lean—though not at all weak. Beneath the casual black pants and fitted green top his muscles were defined and powerful. His broad shoulders and grey-eyed gaze faced Sage in a stance she felt was less intimidating than stern. His mahogany hair, smooth and neat as it brushed his forehead, made his face more distinct and luring than if it were spiked. He caught her gaze, and smiled widely.

Sage's lip curled and she spat on the floor. He shrunk back in disgust and surprise.

"_Zartan_." she snarled the word like a curse, and a sort of trivial fear flashed across his face for a brief amount of time. Sage knew she could be one menacing bitch when she wanted to. Unfortunately for him, this was one of those times. "So you impersonate Hawk, kidnap me, and then knock me _out?_" Her voice rose in anger and accusation as she progressed. "And now I'm chained to a fucking _chair?_"

Zartan recovered slightly; he even smirked. "What can I say? I'm a master of disguise, Sage." His voice was smug, and it made Sage's teeth grind together in annoyance.

"You better hope I don't get out of these cuffs, or you're a dead man, Zartan." It wasn't an empty threat, and Sage's stormy eyes proved that. Zartan swallowed, unable to speak.

"My, _my_," the Storm-Shadow-alike sneered, capturing Sage's attention; "you are quite quick to anger, aren't you?" Sage hissed and bared her teeth. He smiled deviously.

"And who the hell are you?"

The boy straightened and gazed at her for a moment before answering, "Blood Claw." Sage cocked a brow and snorted.

"_Blood_ Claw?"

"Ariel _Gallow?_" he retorted, and her face hardened before she looked away. "Zartan, go and retrieve Sensei." Zartan turned and snarled, but stalked obediently toward the door and vanished through it with a hollow boom. Sage could see why: she wouldn't much like being ordered around as a dog, either. Cutting through her musings, Blood Claw spoke: "So, Sage—"

She cut him off brusquely, "You drugged me." And at her indictment, Blood Claw cocked a brow.

"It was quite easy to do. The prison has dulled your skills." With his statement, something clicked at the back of Sage's chair, and she glanced over her shoulder. The handcuffs she'd unconsciously broken free from clattered loudly to the floor, and she grinned. Her arms were free.

A soft silvery wink flashed out of the corner of Sage's eye, and her head darted up just as a cool steel blade was placed to her throat. Her eyes dropped, and she followed the smooth contours of the elegant katana blade from its point at her neck to the finely adorned black-leather hilt, up the muscular brown arm to its cut-off at the white sleeve, up the thick neck, over the high cheekbones, and into the dark, calculating eyes staring back at her like a wall. Her brows drew together, and then an indescribable emotion settled heavily her gut.

"You're a ninja."

At her words, the boy smiled, and she saw with sudden clarity the killer behind it. Despite his youthful appearance, he'd already slaughtered many that dared to stand in his path. He was verging on nineteen, and he was already a murderer. Just like Sage.

"I'm glad you noticed." He murmured arrogantly, pricking Sage's skin with his blade.

"Do it," she seethed quietly, baring her teeth at his antics. "I _dare_ you."

"I—"the quiet opening and closing of a door cut the young man off as he glanced up quickly. He stiffened, and so did Sage, when she heard the voice.

"Blood Claw."

The katana disappeared from Sage's neck and the boy stepped back quickly, lowering his gaze. Sage's gut tumbled to her toes, and she stilled like a statue, her eyes frozen wide in horror, unable to move.

"Sage." his voice calling her name made her flinch, and she turned her head further to the side, evading his presence. She hunched her shoulders and closed her eyes tightly. Her hands, hanging loosely by her sides, trembled.

"Ariel Gallow," he tried again, and she made a soft noise that sounded oddly like a wounded animal. Her breathing was shallow and fast, her heart stuttering in fear. She tried to resist him, but he was too luring. "Look at me."

Slowly and reluctantly, Sage lifted her head and opened her eyes, and there, standing before her, blocking the fireplace at his back with his solid, dominant build, was the white-clad ninja she knew.

Storm Shadow in the flesh.

Her gut corkscrewed in pain and she cried out before she could stop it. His dark eyes stared at her intensely, and her head swam.

_Breathe_. She reminded herself urgently. _Breathe_.

Darkness began to cloud her vision, and she leant forward to support her face with her hands that rested on her knees. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep, ragged breaths.

_Breathe_, her mind whispered. She complied, and slowly, the sharp ringing in her ears, the hard pounding of her erratic heart, and the alarming blackness clouding her eyes began to disappear. She held herself in that position for a little while longer, calming herself, as neither Storm Shadow nor Blood Claw moved to help her.

When she regained control, he spoke again, "Sage." She fisted her hands against her forehead and gritted her teeth. Looking up, she stared into his eyes.

"You died."

Something passed over his eyes at her words, and then he smiled slowly. It was a dark and mysterious approach, both drawing and repelling. Sage's gut curled in on itself and her heart fluttered, but she didn't smile back. She couldn't. The beginning of a new emotion was brewing deep inside as she stared. Stared at his perfect body.

_Anger_. That was the only name for it. It wasn't love, and it wasn't distress—but it was passionate. Passionate, fierce, and _hateful_.

And Storm Shadow, of all people, understood why. Within the timeframe of a year, he'd managed to drag Sage on a deadly rollercoaster that made her question everything she had. He'd made her second-guess her past, her enemies, her future, and herself. He'd brought down her walls and then rebuilt them. He'd tortured and loved her, and then, within the blink of an eye, he'd disappeared. He'd left her for five years thinking he was dead. He'd left her thinking there was no way to find freedom again. He'd left her thinking she was alone.

Of course, Sage had never really given up on herself; he knew that. Not once. But she gave up on him, and seeing him here now, healthy and haughty, made her blood boil. How _dare_ he make her suffer like that?She would not forgive him.

Not even realising she had moved, Sage found herself standing. It seemed, she thought, that her kidnappers were not very good at chaining her to a chair, or placing on handcuffs. Slowly and scornfully, Storm Shadow raised a brow. Sage trembled in rage, and then shuddered in disgust. He grinned, provoking her.

"You _died!_" She wailed. He waited, watching as her lips shifted painfully and bewildered emotions spread out across her face. He'd twisted her, that was for sure. But he'd heal her. Bring her back to her old life, her cold state. She'd softened without his presence.

Instead of stepping toward him, like Storm Shadow had expected, Sage shrunk back in horror. Fear this raw, he realised, he'd never endured from her. She was usually so cold, or so mild. But this, this was ecstasy.

He smiled wider, baring his teeth like a predator, and stepped forward. Sage counterfeited him, stepping back ten for his every one. She would be cornered soon, he knew by glancing to the walls at her back, and then he would take control.

"I saw you!" She shrieked, hurrying away from him. "I saw you fall. I saw Snake Eyes hit your chest, and then I watched you fall!" She was in denial, but at the word of his disgrace, Storm Shadow's eyes darkened.

Sage's eyes flickered for an exit as the white-clothed ninja continued to stalk silently toward her. His stance, she noticed, was much more dangerous than she remembered. His gaze, too, was more noxious.

He'd changed, and the shift in his mood made her uneasy. She deliberated nervously on her toes, scoping the room for exits or weapons, but he'd effectively isolated her to a bland corner of the space.

_How could she allow herself to get into such a situation?_

Fear was clouding her senses, and Sage was trying to desperately get control of herself, but the shock, and the confrontment, and the hate that came with Storm Shadow's reappearance was distorting her judgement. She was vulnerable and afraid, and the ninja was taking advantage of that.

"You cannot go anywhere, Sage." She looked at him wildly as he soothed her with a voice so similar to what she remembered. He was cunning, and his actions were effective. Sage hesitated.

"You're a ghost." She breathed, waking herself from the trance his eyes captivated her in. She couldn't afford to slip up, not this time. "_You have to be_."

At that, he grinned. Sage's skin grew clammy. "I am real, Sage." He murmured, drawing her eyes down toward the hem of his shirt as his fingers grasped it and lifted up. His actions exposed the attractive muscles of his toned abdomen, the defined edges of his six-pack, and then the hefty muscles of his chest.

And there, just to the left of the centre of his ribcage, was a faint white scar visibly raised against the dark tanning of his chest.

So, not only was Storm Shadow lethal. He was indestructible.

Sage stumbled and slammed her back against the wall she had unintentionally come close to. Winded, she slid down the hard wooden panels and fell to the floor, closing her eyes. She tried to breathe.

All this time, Sage had thought the ninja was like any other human being: someone that, no matter how well trained or deadly he was, could_ still die_. But Storm Shadow was living proof that that was false.

If he could survive a blade to the heart, could he survive a bullet to the head?

She sensed as the ninja came to crouch before her. Whimpering, she cringed when his warm hand brushed the side of her face like a lover.

It was all a dream. It had to be. Storm Shadow couldn't defy death.

"Ariel Gallow," he began quietly, like he was cooing to a frightened horse. Sage could feel his calculating gaze boring holes into her head, "Open your eyes."

Sage wouldn't do it. She couldn't open her eyes onto a face that was nightmarishly in her dreams. She had wake up. _She had to wake up!_

When she did not immediately comply, Storm Shadow's hand travelled down to seize her chin. He squeezed it tightly, shooting pain up from her jaw, but she ignored it. She was falling apart. This was all just a nightmare. Just one huge fucking hideous nightmare.

"Sage." his face was closer now, his breath warmer than if it were at a distance. Sage's own breathing was ragged and unsteady.

"Please," she whispered when his lips brushed hers teasingly. "_Don't_."

"Then look at me." he demanded. She shook her head, his hold tightened. She gasped.

"Blood Claw," Sage sensed as Storm Shadow turned away to address the waiting ninja.

"Yes, Sensei?" his voice, Sage shuddered. It was identical to Storm Shadow's—or was it Storm Shadow's?

"Find Zartan. Order him, on my behalf, to re-establish his role at Parliament. Stand guard outside. Ensure there are no followers. Make sure no one enters this room."

"As you wish, Sensei." soft footsteps and the closing of a door followed the boy's words, and then Storm Shadow turned back to Sage.

"Sage," he whispered softly, and she could feel his breath. "My dear blonde-haired assassin..."

"No," she wept quietly, feeling as the tears slid from her eyes. _Traitors_..."_No_."

"It is ok, Sage." He spoke gently, promising false truths that he was kind and caring. He was trickery. He was the devil. "I am not going to hurt you."

Sage's eyes flew open; she couldn't take it any longer. Lashing out with a foot, she forced the ninja back and jumped to her feet. She balled her fists.

"You _died!_" She screamed, hot, angry tears trailing down her cheeks. "You _left_ me! You betrayed me, Storm Shadow! You gave me to the Joes to thrust me into a cell to rot for the rest of my life! You cursed me to _hell!_"

Emotions were bubbling in Sage's chest, choking off her words. She was suffocating. Her fingernails clawed at her throat, scratching the skin and restricting her lungs. She coughed violently, collapsing to the floor. Her shoulders shook.

The ninja remained where he was, watching her callously as she struggled to breathe and fight. He stared in disgust at the tears falling to the carpet, and curled his lip up at her behaviour.

"You are weak, Sage," he spat, watching as she gasped and sobbed. "Where is the cold assassin? The grey indifference? The solid wall? What happened to you? I see you here now, a grovelling, piteous mess, and I wonder if you ever really were worth my time. You disappoint me. You are _despicable_."

At his words, Sage fell silent and lifted her fiery gaze up to stare into his eyes. He smiled mockingly, aggravating a reaction, and she screamed at him.

"_You goddamn left _me_,_ _Storm Shadow!_ _You fucking _deserted_ me, and then you came back from the _dead!Why the _fuck_ can't I respond the way I am?" She staggered to her feet, jabbing a finger at him. "You think _I _am a disgrace, Storm Shadow. _You_ want a disgrace? _You_ want a monster? Look in a fucking _mirror_ you psychotic _bastard!_ That disappointment is _you!_ That evil is _you!_ You are the _devil!_" Her shattering high-pitched voice pierced the frozen air between the pair, and Storm Shadow acted. Springing forward, he seized Sage by the throat and slammed her hard against the wall. Her skull cracked against the wood, her head swam, and something warm and thick trickled down her back. She gnashed her teeth together harshly and kept from crying out. Storm Shadow's hold chocked off her air supply.

"I did not _leave_ you, Sage, and I did not _die_. My death was false. I waited for night, until the Joes had left the Hangar, and then I crawled back out of that hole Snake Eyes left me in, and escaped. I was wounded, and for most, it was fatally, but the nanomites within my system allowed me to heal. It has taken time, but now I am mended, and I will continue Cobra's fight against G. I. Joe. I am unstoppable, and now _you_ belong to _me_. No one here will stop me from what you have coming. You are _my_ soldier now."

The dread settled heavily in Sage's gut as she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. All this time, she had thought Storm Shadow was protecting her from Cobra, but really, Cobra was protecting her from Storm Shadow. And now that he was gone, Sage was helpless.

For once in her life, she realised there was nothing she could do. She was at the complete and utter mercy if this white-clad ninja, and he goddamn knew it.

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**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated! xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I am **not** Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do **not** own his works. What I **ADD** into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the **original** themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

**Author's Note:** To all my lovely readers, I am _so_ sorry for the slow update! I have been _severely_ unmotivated to write another chapter for this story; I think it's got something to do with writer's block :( I've also been busy. But here's an update. Please enjoy!

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**Chapter Four**

Silence was both a gift and a curse. In times of solitude, it was bliss, but in times of hysteria, it was horrific. It was both powerful and weak in its presence, aggressive and passive in its intentions. Some could stand the silence; others would rather die. For Sage, the silence at this moment was brutal, but it was necessary. Stalking to the end of room, she paused and turned around, pacing back to the other wall. Her head was bowed and her movements were smooth, but she had an uneasy cavort to her steps. She was moving fast, muttering mentally to herself and shaking her head every now and then. She grimaced and spun on her heel, stalking the other way. The path was familiar—she'd been doing it for the past half an hour, and the eyes by the door had watched her the whole time.

Storm Shadow had tired of Sage's reaction to his reappearance, and he'd vanished from the room to carry out other duties, posting Blood Claw just inside the room to watch her, and do nothing unless she was hurting herself, others, or the furniture. So that was what he was doing—watching her. She hadn't looked at him once, and to release her frustration, she had begun to pace.

This was where she found herself now. She twisted at the end of the room, shifted her footing, and began walking again.

"Are you going to take an oath of silence like Snake Eyes, Sage?" It was the first words Blood Claw had spoken, and she ignored him, although his words registered in her mind. _So _that's_ why he didn't talk_...she thought quietly to herself. _Odd_... "You do not have the willpower, Sage." He continued. "You are too proud to not speak your mind."

Sage turned and snarled at him. "And you don't know me!"

His eyes smiled at her—smirked, really—and she cursed under her breath, realising he'd won. She turned away again, scowling.

Blood Claw fell silent once more, watching her. In a sudden fit of fury, Sage whipped as she passed the large mahogany desk occupying the room and gripped the iron paperweight off the top, throwing it at the wall. It slightly chipped the wood in one place and pressed in a hole at another before falling to the ground with a low _thunk_, and she screamed in frustration. She turned to the desk again and picked up a handful of pens, throwing them like daggers at the walls and the roof. They sunk in, trembled slightly, and then fell still.

"Sage!" Blood Claw barked, and she spun on him, throwing a pen at his chest. Naturally, he deflected it, but his eyes were surprised at her aggression and accuracy. He sealed his face once more, hissing. "Stop!"

She ignored him, ignored the raw command in his voice, and picked up a stack of papers, throwing them across the room and watching happily as they scattered like a puff of feathers across the floor. She smirked. _Let them clean that up_, she thought. But as she moved to wreak more havoc throughout the room, strong muscular arms gripped tightly around her chest. She threw her head back, connecting her skull with a nose, and rammed her shoulders against their chest. They staggered slightly, but it only forced their arms to wind tighter. She struggled; kicking out violently, not caring what she hit. Her foot collided with something, and he crumpled slightly, but chuckled.

"You really are a fierce little assassin, aren't you?"

"Let me go!" She yelled, ramming back an elbow into his stomach. He gasped slightly.

"Not until you calm down."

"And why should I?" She roared, lifting her legs up swiftly to press her feet against the edge of the desk, shoving back and up. Flipping lithely over Blood Claw's head and punching him forcefully in the neck, she landed behind him. He cried out and stumbled, but spun around and whipped out his hand, slapping her smartly across the cheek. She tripped and ran backwards, trying to regain her balance, and touched her throbbing cheek. Lifting her eyes, she glared darkly at him. "You. _Bastard!_" and she charged.

Like most ninjas, Blood Claw was naturally ready to deflect any attack she made. It was instinct, and it was so easy. Despite the blonde assassin's cunning ways, he remained one step ahead of her as she launched at him. Dodging her fly through the air to reveal her new target as the desk, Sage repositioned her previously '_I'll strangle you'_ arms, and placed her hands against the mahogany surface, tucking in her head and throwing over her legs to somersault across the flat surface and drop down in a crouch on the other side. Items scattered as she bowled a path across the wood, and a soft _sheen_ rang through the air moments after she vanished. Looking, she saw the quick shimmer of a katana blade before it vanished, and she scowled. Weapon-less against a fully equipped ninja? Well shit...Wasn't that something she looked forward to everyday?

Keeping her right shoulder pressed to the desk, she slowly crept backwards and peeked out around her fort. Black eyes stared back at her, peeking around the other corner, and she cursed before flipping forward and out of his sight. As she repositioned herself at the other end of the desk, a taunting laugh ripped through the air. Her scowl deepened as Blood Claw teased her.

Glancing around, she assessed her position. Her barricade was to her right, and any space beyond that was rigorously guarded by Blood Claw. To her left, however, was her territory. Twisting her head, she spied the large, elegant fireplace and black leather office chair. If she ever needed a distraction...

A strange crooning sound verbalized itself above Sage's head and she looked up quickly. There, perched readily on top of the chaos-strewn desk with a shit-eating grin that only worked to boil her blood, was Blood Claw. Before she could move, he leapt elegantly off the desk and landed on her left. Her eyes whipped around to follow him.

"Your fighting _is_ sloppy." He remarked snidely, toying with the polished katana blade in his hand, reminding her who had the power, no doubt.

The exasperating kid was as irritating and derogatory as his Master. Damn Storm Shadow...

Without warning, or even a flicker of change in his eyes, Blood Claw hacked out his blade toward her side. Barely missing his attack with her nimble movements, she sprung around to the other side of the desk previously Blood Claw's. A low _thump_ above her made her look up once again, and, like the irritating parasite he was, Blood Claw crouched above her.

Sometimes, there was just no escaping someone with the advantage of elevation above you. Of course, throw in the fact that that person happened to be a highly skilled ninja with a blade, and you're pretty much screwed...

Trying her best to dodge, Sage just couldn't move fast enough as his boot connected with her chest and sent her sprawling across the floor. Dropping from the table, her sauntered toward her and placed the tip of his blade underneath her chin. He crouched down, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers against her cheek and shift the hair from her eyes as she glared at him defiantly.

"Such a pretty face," he remarked, white teeth flashing. "Such prospective skill." When his fingers brushed below her eyes, Sage moved back her head and latched her jaw onto his hand, biting down. Hard. The young ninja cried out and reefed his fingers from her mouth, slapping her face harshly in the process. Her eyes watered slightly as she twisted back and made to attack him, but with sudden, deadly accuracy, he dug his nails into the crook of her neck and twisted a nerve, hitting the sedative pressure point. Her whole body turned rigid, before her eyes rolled back and she slumped to the floor.

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Sage woke for the second time that day with a pounding headache and groggy eyesight. There was an unusual tightness on the right side of her forehead as she crinkled her brows, and an aching pain at the place connecting the right side of her neck to her right shoulder. She blinked slowly, gazing around as the surrounding darkness faded in and out. She could feel herself wobbling slightly, but from the throbbing or her disorientation or both, she couldn't be sure. At the surge of pain thundering around inside her head, she groaned and made to lift a hand.

Something rattled and a cool object hindered the movement of her left arm. Tugging quickly, the clamour increased, as well as the tightness around her wrists. She frowned. Her headache increased.

"Handcuffs," an ominous feminine voice spoke behind her, and she tensed, "Are useful when the opponent is of mild skill." She shivered as a breeze passed over the back of her neck, and lifted her gaze to the wall opposite. It was solid grey rock: undecorated, immensely boring. "But _you_, my dear Sage," she jumped slightly when the voice whispered right at the back of her head, "Are _far_ from mild."

Much to her disgust, soft, cold fingers slid themselves over Sage's slim shoulders and wound themselves loosely around her throat. On impulse, she struggled, not at all liking the potential danger they possessed, but fell still when the longish nails dug into her throat. Her head was reefed back roughly, and she grunted from the pain it provoked, both inside her skull and at the crook of her neck.

Looking up, Sage saw nothing but a clean white roof. She frowned again.

A voice laughed beneath her head, crouched down out of sight. "I have been waiting a long time to torment you." A flash of black caught at the edge of Sage's eyes, and she tried to look—but it was gone.

"So tell me," the voice continued, an accented smooth drawl colouring its words. As Sage's suspicions rose, her frown turned into a glower. "How was Alcatraz? Homey?"

As the words were uttered, the form rose fluidly to look down at Sage's awkward position. With her head craned back so far, her neck was beginning to ache; stiffness was clogging up her joints.

And when she saw the face, she all but forgot her pain. The long raven-black hair, svelte figure and green eyes: it was the German goddess from five years back.

Sage couldn't help the hatred that rose in her eyes while spitting the woman's name. "_Baroness_."

The woman's red lips parted in a sneer. "Hello, _Sage_."

Never taking her eyes from Sage's, Baroness placed her fingers gently against the younger woman's tense shoulders. The expression in her eyes was menacing, and Sage's hands balled into fists.

Seeing the warning in her eyes, Baroness only smirked and dug a finger into the pressure point Blood Claw had exposed earlier. Gritting her teeth, pain flashed briefly through her eyes, but Baroness still saw, and what she saw brought satisfaction to her smile. She leant down, placing her lips to Sage's ear. "_Too bad no one here really cares if you scream_." And it wasn't an empty threat.

Twisting her head, Baroness placed a large, red-lipstick-ed kiss to Sage's cheek and pulled back, grinning at the blonde's shriek of disgust. She patted her cheek affectionately as Sage rubbed her face against her shoulder, and then she laughed coldly.

"Oh, how much I've missed this!" Baroness leered.

Lifting her eyes, Sage stared up at the German woman with a fierce glower. She liked to taunt Sage while the assassin was chained to a chair and stiff from being forcefully sedated? What a cowardly bitch.

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**Author's Note:** So, please tell me your views on this chappie, and if anyone has any ideas they want to throw out there, feel free to do so! Your help is greatly appreciated :) Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I am **not** Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do **not** own his works. What I ADD into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the original themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

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**Chapter Five**

A fist to the face brought a spout of blood spewing from Sage's lips and her head snapped violently to the side, which aggravated the throbbing of her already-stiff neck. If it had been a knife to the throat, her blood may have coated the walls. That would have been a grim scene, but she wouldn't put it past her nemesis.

Staring down at the pathetic pool of metallic-tasting liquid, Sage grimaced. A fleeting glimpse of Baroness' svelte figure slipped across the crimson surface, and even through the ugly world of red, Sage could see the brutal glint of her eyes unwelcome against the wily lines of her beautiful face. Her long hair flowed softly after her, as if rippling across an invisible wind, and a cruel little smirk twisted at the corners of her lips.

Shifting her head back around slowly, Sage lifted her gaze to meet the confidant eyes of the German woman, keeping all signs of pain vacant. Assertively holding the stare-down, her jaw shifted and her eyes flashed her defiance. Her tongue slid across her bloody teeth, and she shuddered at the stale taste.

Inciting a husky, sarcastic laugh, Baroness pranced around the chair and reached down to rattle the chains linking Sage's handcuffs with a vigour that could have rattled her jaw—it most definitely pained her muscles. Sage tensed her shoulders and the tendons in her neck strained tenderly as she resisted the jerky influence of Baroness. The black-haired woman laughed again, and releasing her hold on Sage's restrained arms, she danced around to face Sage head-on. Her eyes sparkled enigmatically as she stared, and the blonde-haired assassin spotted a twinkle of excitement in her expression. Her brows drew together in confusion as she watched the fickle woman, and she couldn't help but think how Baroness had changed.

At Cobra H.Q. Baroness had been stiff and professional. She had rarely smiled, and never once had Sage seen her frolic around so carelessly as she was now. She had the silent suspicions that Baroness was under the influence of drugs; it'd explain her drastic mood change. Something was alight in Baroness' eyes as she watched; something exotic. It was like she had found the essence of life, and it flooded her—yet her composure was just as deceiving as before. Each movement was graceful and calculated, and even though she swayed her hips and waved her arms, Sage knew she was more than ready to snap a few necks.

Sighing, the assassin grew tired of the German's antics and shuffled back in the cool metal seat she was chained to. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the consistent cackle flowing from Baroness' lips, and growled lowly in her throat when it didn't happen.

"You know, that evil cackle you have going on is _quite_ stereotypical for a black-haired wench like yourself." Her voice was quiet and cutting, and at her derogatory statement Baroness fell silent. Sage smirked blindly, before the hairs on the back of her neck prickled warningly and her eyes flew open. Dark lashes and smoky-eyes makeup stared back at her, rimming the seductive irises of the green-eyed beauty.

Sage stiffened when she realised how close Baroness really was. Her lips shifted, and if she spoke, Sage knew their lips would touch. Scrunching up her nose in disgust, she craned back her head as far as she could—despite the soreness from her recent sedative spot—and the evil woman smirked knowingly.

"Frigid, are we?" Baroness drawled, closely copying the sexual taunt Storm Shadow had used at Cobra H.Q. a few years back. Sage scowled, half for Baroness' taunt, the other half for the thought of the white-clad ninja.

"I'm not frigid," she retorted, a small smirk twisting her lips. "I'm just not into kissing slimy toads like yourself."

With a small, indignant shriek, Baroness brought up her hand and slapped Sage smartly across the cheek. The assassin blinked dazedly, stopping the shocked tears from springing to her eyes, and craned her neck a little to look back at Baroness. Her eyes glinted provocatively, and her sultry voice snarled her next words: "Hit a nerve, did I?"

Baroness hissed and pulled back, her hands fisted as she glared down at Sage. The blonde woman tilted her head to the side innocently, grimacing at the biting pain, the flaming red mark on her right cheek startling compared to her fair skin and blue eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, before a door somewhere behind her in the dark room opened, spilling light in from the space outside.

Upon quick inspection of the briefly lit up room, Sage saw that it was crude and taciturn. Ugly, compared to the large, extravagant office she'd first woken up in. The floor was stone, the walls were stone, the roof was white plaster, and the area was relatively empty. Bare, except for herself, Baroness, the chair, and the new intruder having just arrived.

Sage kinked her head back, trying to catch a glimpse of the new presence, before Baroness grabbed her nose and yanked her face forward. Yelping, Sage kicked out a foot and slammed it against Baroness' knee, who gasped and sagged nearer to the floor. And after receiving a hit to the other knee, the woman ended up kneeling heavily on the ground. Then, Sage brought up a leg to smack her in the jaw.

Too bad a hand came down on her thigh to hinder her movement. Whipping her eyes around, she glared at the shaded figure as the door slammed shut. His mask was off, and his ninja suit was replaced with a pair of grey tracksuit pants and a white shirt. But he somehow still managed to carry his katanas, which were, as always, slanted diagonally across his back.

"If you wish to _keep_ that hand of yours, I'd suggest you _remove_ _it_ from my _thigh_." She hissed, fiery eyes meeting his black orbs, fuelled by her pain and anger. He smirked darkly, teeth glinting, and travelled his fingertips a little higher up her leg. Sage stiffened and fisted her hands, lifting her chin the slightest bit in discontent. "_Now_."

A low chuckle came from Baroness as she pushed herself to her feet, wincing slightly—Sage knew how to kick hard, and in the right places. Knees were always weak spots. A little breathless, the German stated: "And you said you weren't frigid…Don't use that toad excuse on Storm Shadow, either. We both know you don't think of him that way."

Sage's nostrils flared as Storm Shadow traced circles on her thigh, provoking her. In the handcuffs, she twisted her wrists and jerked on the metal, hitting the right spot. And easily, as always, the shackles broke free.

Bringing her arms out in front of her, Sage shoved Storm Shadow's hand from her leg and stood, ramming a shoulder up into his chest. With the sudden surge of adrenalin, all thoughts of pain fled from her mind. He grunted on the impact, but still managed to wrap a hand around her upper arm, and when Sage yanked away from him, he released her and watched as she stumbled.

Throwing out her arms, Sage tried to balance as she skipped backwards, but the chair at the back of her knees mercilessly tried to trip her. Pushing her arms out behind her, she guided herself into the seat and then lifted up her legs as Storm Shadow advanced. Planting her bare feet to his solid chest, she shoved back, tipping the chair over. She arched her spine as she did so, throwing her legs up to backflip out of the metal seat before it hit the floor, and end up in a crouch facing the ninja and Baroness. She smirked as Storm Shadow silently appraised her dexterous manoeuvre, and then stood to her full height, backing away from them.

The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, she realised, as she moved away from them. But her legs and arms were warm, and with a quick glance down, she realised she still had the Alcatraz prison uniform on.

"There is still some grace in that fighting style of yours, Sage," Storm Shadow began in a serious, calculating tone that made her look at him. She took note of how intense his gaze was on her form, no doubt surveying how she moved, looking for her weakness, and, being a ninja, finding them—unlike most other enemies. And she didn't like that thought. "But the past five years has turned you very much into a brawler." He tilted his head to the side as Baroness stared at Sage, her lips twitching humourlessly.

"She's gained a bit of weight too, don't you think?" It was an idle insult, no truth to it whatsoever, and both Sage and Storm Shadow knew that.

Sage smiled slowly as Storm Shadow turned to Baroness with that belittling stare of his. Then Sage laughed scornfully, shaking her head. "Oh Bar, how simple you truly are."

Baroness tensed under the white-clad ninja's gaze, dropping her heated eyes shamefully. "My, my, Ana…I thought you were past such childish insults." At Storm Shadow's words, her whole body solidified, and she lifted her gaze, almost fearfully, to stare at Sage. Storm Shadow too turned his eyes back to the assassin. Sage frowned.

"Your real name is Ana?"

Upon hearing her question, Storm Shadow turned his gaze away, and Baroness glared warningly at Sage. "_Bar?_ What type of name is _that?_" she spat, futilely trying to change the subject. Sage grinned, knowing how uncomfortable she was with the revelation of her true name. Not that it was all that surprising—they knew her real name from the first day. It was only polite that she knew theirs, though; she had the inkling feeling Storm Shadow would never reveal his true name willingly.

Sage rolled her eyes, deciding to humour her. "It was an insult, Baroness, because we both know you'd only be lucky in picking up a man if you ventured out to a bar."

Baroness turned her fiery gaze to Storm Shadow, wondering, no doubt, if he'd pull Sage up for her truthless offence like he had Baroness. But the ninja did nothing, and Sage's smile widened as Baroness noticed the ninja's prejudice. Producing a sound close to outrage, the woman bared her teeth at Sage spitefully. "I can see the ninja prefers _you_. Not to worry, though, it's only because he's a naturally dominant creature, and having an easy woman like yourself goes well for his taste. He'll tire of you soon enough."

At her words, Sage rolled her eyes, concealing the fact that on the inside she was unsettled. _Her_, an easy woman? Was she really that compliant to Storm Shadow's ways? Glancing surreptitiously at the ninja, his clever eyes met hers, and he smiled sinisterly. She looked back to Baroness quickly, frowning.

"You'd know, Baroness, seeing as you 'never'," she made air-quotes with her fingers in a way of mocking the other woman, "slept with him, or anything."

Baroness tensed all over, and Storm Shadow breathed a laugh. Turning to him, Sage arched a brow, and he smirked. "And only _you_, Sage, would remember her ever saying such a thing. Jealous, are we?"

At his words, Baroness snickered, relaxing, and Sage looked between them, before settling her gaze back on the ninja. "Are you bi-polar or something? Why can't you choose a side and _stick_ to it?"

Now it was Storm Shadow's turn to angle a brow. "Sides? You thought I chose _your_ side?" His derogatory tone made Baroness' shit-eating grin spread even wider, and laughter grow ever louder. Sage scowled at her. "If anything, you are on _my_ side, Sage." The blonde's eyes snapped back to the ninja as he said that, and she scoffed cynically.

"_Me?_ On _your_ side? Dream on, ninja." She rolled her eyes.

"Denying is the most obvious sign of lying!" Baroness sang, and Sage looked at her, crossing her arms.

"And that is the most injudicious statement I have ever heard."

"Well, obviously you don't get out enough."

"Ladies!" Storm Shadow snapped, and both women grudgingly turned to him. "Enough."

Sighing, Sage complied, and Baroness smirked shrewdly, mouthing the word: _submissive_.

Sage's expression turned to a scowl, her jaw tensing. At her reaction, Baroness' smugness only grew, and Sage mentally slapped herself for letting the black-haired woman get to her. Looking away, she declared silently to herself that she was submissive to _no one._

"I told you." Baroness stated before Storm Shadow had enough time to hush her, and Sage closed her eyes briefly, trying to keep her cool. When she opened them, and set her gaze on the pair before her, a silent fire burned in her eyes.

"Well, _Ana_, I'm glad you're gullible enough to live on the foundations of a lie, because we _all_ know just how much I _love_ to defy Storm Shadow. It's in my blood." She flashed a sweet, belittling smile, and watched as Baroness openly glowered—more for using her real name than anything else.

And Sage knew _why_ she hated it so much. For there was nothing more powerful than knowing your enemy's true identity, and what better way to rub it in than by mentioning it with an indecipherable expression?

Works wonders every time.

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**Author's Note:** Chapter five, whoo! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and to those who will! Your support is greatly appreciated! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I am **not** Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do **not** own his works. What I ADD into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the original themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Eventually, as the adrenaline rush wore away, Sage was left with the consequential ache of having strained her already-sore neck. When she tried to move it left, it seized up. When she tried to move it right, it seized up. When she moved it _at_ _all_, it seized up.

_Why?_ She thought angrily, scowling at her hands, and instead of her head being tilted down toward her lap to stare at her palms like a normal person, her fingers were raised up in front of her face, because obviously, she couldn't move her muscles. _Why do you do this to yourself? _The answer, she knew, was simple: survival.

Not as simple, was how Baroness and Storm Shadow were now treating her. Earlier that day, they'd been callous—hateful, even. But playful at the same time. And right now? They were hesitant—almost wary—and she had no idea why.

So she'd been staring at her hands angrily for the good part of half an hour. It served no purpose to her life, but it did build up the already strong muscles in her arms.

'_Fools'_, she'd called them earlier, '_Complete and utter fools_.' But now, as she thought about it, they weren't really the fools, _she_ was the jester. It wasn't a welcome thought, and she wasn't entirely fond of such a fact, but it was the truth. For she was, indeed, the comical victim in their adventurous story. And it had all started when her neck began to seize up.

About an hour ago, after Sage had taunted Baroness by using her real name, the black-haired woman had launched herself over the chair in a flying fit of fury. With such an obvious advance, Sage had dodged her body-missile quiet easily, but then she'd rammed sides with Storm Shadow who had somehow materialised beside her. She'd whipped around and cast him an vexed look, before Baroness had gripped her hair and reefed her head backwards—and they both swore they'd heard something crack.

Storm Shadow had heard it too, because he'd stepped forward with such confident elegance, and placed the thin edge of his katana blade to rest lightly on Baroness' exposed wrists, that neither woman dared to defy him. With one look, Baroness had released Sage and cowered back, tucking her arms behind her in a way of shielding any adeptly removable body parts from Storm Shadow's spiteful gaze.

And upon being released, Sage had lifted her head slowly and made to touch the stretched muscles of her neck, almost groaning at the pain it brought. With her back turned to Baroness, she'd openly grimaced, and with Storm Shadow facing her, he'd seen it. The anguish in her expression had sent Baroness fleeting to the wall farthest from them, suspecting she was deep in shit, and that shitty situation was proven when Storm Shadow turned his withering glare upon her. It was _very_ obvious that she was walking on egg shells, and that she had just broken some—not that Sage cared what happened to the woman. But when the ninja had sprung into a long-winded, shrewd lecture of '_Do not damage my precious assassin further otherwise what use is she?_' Baroness had realised just _how_ deep she was in. So deep, in fact, she was stuck up Shit Creek in a boat without a paddle or lifejacket.

Sucked to be her…

So when Baroness had tried to high-tail it out of the room moments later, Storm Shadow had snapped forward an arm and sunk a shuriken into the door she was reaching for. With a small, fearful gasp, Baroness had jumped back from the exit and cast him a nervous look. Never before had Sage seen Baroness so distressed, and to be honest, she was quite excited.

And Storm Shadow's words that had followed were something close to a growl: "If you two are to work _together_, you are to _get along_."

Yet despite the ninja's quiet fury, Sage had jutted out her chin arrogantly, stating that she was '_no way in_ hell' going to work for _him_.

_Well_, Storm Shadow hadn't liked _that_, and he'd turned his acerbic gaze upon her. It was harsh enough that she'd flinched, which caused him to smirk and Baroness to chuckle—until she'd suffered the same fate.

Looking back on it now, Sage thought it was comical how difficult both herself and Baroness were to control. Like bickering sisters—_minus_ the biological sibling part. Their relationship was anything _but_ familial.

It was more like vengeful, with a side of comical.

Sighing, Sage dropped her hands to her lap, wincing a little as the action jarred the stiff muscles in her neck, and let her eyes roam around before her. Part of the reason she had previously thought they were idiots was because of what sat right before her.

Wide open spaces blanketed in a fresh layer of powdery white snow. They were in the mountain somewhere, perhaps Japan, considering Storm Shadow's clear physical traits of an Asian ancestry, and that this place seemed to belong to him, and that he was a ninja, and ninjas were from Japan—she thought, at least. She'd never really looked up their origin, never having thought she'd meet one for real.

There also happened to be a gaudy, expensive-looking snowboard placed strategically to her left, resting against the railing of the open balcony providing her a beautiful view of the frozen land ahead. Sage's eyes ran the length of the object, and she could tell from her seat on the plush red chair that it was the perfect size for her. It consisted of a bright white background disrupted with thin feminine swirls of hot-pink, fluoro-green, lightning-blue, and bright-purple. The swirls seemed to be coming from a point in the centre of the board, and fanned out around the pure surface like a mass frenzy of vector lines.

It was a stylish board: elegant and superior.

And the best thing was it was hers. It was the board she'd ridden down the mountainside shooting her target a few minutes before meeting Storm Shadow. It was the board she'd taken to the helicopter when she was travelling to Cobra H.Q. It was the board that had followed her everywhere, even before she went on the mission to that mountain that took the lives of her closest friends and handed her into the illegal conspiracy of the underworld.

It was _her_ board, and she knew that if she picked it up and looked on its underside, she'd see '_Sage'_ scrawled in eloquent black permanent marker—a gift from Michael, which made it all the more precious now that he was dead.

Standing and listening to the silence about her, Sage crossed, barefooted, toward the board and caressed it lightly with her fingertips. It was cold and hard, the top smooth and the bottom slick with a fresh wax. Had someone waxed her board? She definitely hadn't.

Maybe Storm Shadow was expecting her to run. It irked her a little, if he thought that. Obviously, he viewed her as an idiot. And that didn't sit too well with her.

Really, anyone thinking she was an idiot didn't sit too well with her. But because the ninja was just so _standoffish_ and hard to convince, the feeling was worse.

Lifting her gaze, Sage moved her body to face over the balcony and stare down at the slopes below. They looked so inviting, so pleasant, but with the sudden strong wind that picked up and carried a cloud of ice through the air, she was reminded of how ill-prepared she was for the mountains…Good thing she was in a building.

Taking a few moments, she went over her current situation. She was alone in a room with an imprudent offer of freedom. She had a neck-injury and no food, and she _highly_ doubted Storm Shadow had a random stack of snacks stored somewhere in an easily-found place just _waiting_ for her to snatch and run.

Or, maybe he did; just to taunt her. Either way, the escape attempt was futile—no matter what angle she took—and she wasn't stupid enough to try. He or his men would track her down, or she'd freeze to death in the first few hours, seeing as the overalls she wore weren't really arctic material.

Nevertheless, reaching out quietly, she expected her fingers to expose themselves to the bitter mountain air that, surprisingly, hadn't lashed at her yet, what with her close proximity to the edge and all. So it was a little shocking when her hand unexpectedly met an invisible force. Sighing and pressing against it, she realised it was a plane of glass. An extremely _clean_ pane of glass seeing as she couldn't spot any markings randomly hovering in the air.

That thought then made sense to the fact that the glass was clean on the outside, too. Because, taking into account the fact that the building was positioned on a high spot towering above the valley that was whipping up whirlwinds below, being up high meant there was more wind, but if the winds weren't slanted upwards, there wouldn't be much substance to fling at the windows. This meant no water marks from melted snow dripping down the glass were visible, because there were none, or very few. And if the winds blew south a lot, the windows on this side of the building wouldn't even be touched, seeing as they would be downwind.

And she knew where south was because of the position of the sun in the sky, and judging that it was well into the afternoon rather than early in the morning.

And taking _that_ into account, Sage _could_ be wrong. Perhaps Storm Shadow had a bunch of mad cleaners that risked their lives to polish the outside of the windows just to make him happy, along with a substantial pay. That was plausible, considering the volatile moods of the mountain. Weather was unpredictable up here, the winds were wild and the snowfall could be extreme, but that's what made it all the more fun.

For Sage, defying death was a game—a dangerous game, but a game nonetheless. If she were to take this lifestyle too seriously, it would drive her mad. That was why, more often than not, killers had such a twisted sense of humour. They had to, to survive such a job.

Continuing to press her hand against the glass, Sage caught the dim reflection of herself in the window. Her hair was pale and curly, her skin pastel, and her lips a dull pink. Her eyes were a startling bright blue rimmed by dark lashes, but with the physical sheltering she'd suffered for the past five years in jail, she hadn't had enough time to build up a nice tan. And because of this, some of her attractive appearance had been drained, not to mention the silent physical and psychological pain she'd been quelling for the past couple years, even before Alcatraz. She'd kept her emotional suffering on the down low for a while now, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the nature of what it was. If she understood her weaknesses, they became a part of her, and right now, in this predicament, she couldn't afford to be weak.

Sage sensed as a hidden presence shifted the air behind her, and then watched as Storm Shadow appeared to lounge on the large glass window just behind the railing to her right. She dropped her eyes to the board under her hands, speculating indolently what the point of the black metal fence was anyway if a window prevented anyone accidentally falling over the edge. A fence at hip-height wouldn't stop anyone from doing a suicide jump.

Refusing to look at him, Sage felt Storm Shadow's shady gaze intent on her face and sighed quietly. Her fingers toyed with the straps of her snowboard that wound around her board boots, and she sensed as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I see you understand that escape is futile." It was a statement, so Sage saw no use in replying, not that she would anyway. He seemed to wait for something as he watched her, but when he received nothing, he continued. "I am glad you at least have some form of smartness about you, even if it is rare."

Sage sighed again, this time drowsily, as Storm Shadow taunted her. Her neck pained her, but she supposed she could still speak. So, lifting her gaze to stare out the window, she muttered her response: "Perhaps I just don't show it to you very often in the hope that you'll grow tired of my 'stupidity' and ditch me somewhere so I can get on with my life."

At her witty comment, Storm Shadow chuckled and shook his head, running his hand along the smooth top of the railing, his eyes directed downward. "Despite your 'stupidity', you are still very valuable."

Oh, so now he was humouring her? Sage scowled, persistent on staring away from him. "Why am I here, Storm Shadow?" She muttered coldly, demanding answers. The ninja lifted his gaze and looked at her face, smiling slightly.

"Here, in this room? Because there was nowhere else suitable enough for you right now. Your room is almost ready, the maids are adjusting a few things, and then it is all yours."

Dropping her gaze to her hands once more, Sage exhaled heavily. "So, I'm here permanently, I suppose?" It was her unhappy tone, she suspected, more than her question, which produced a lengthy silence between them. Storm Shadow held his eyes to her face quietly, all thoughts flowing through his mind veiled by this stony facade, but his brows drew together a little—she could see it in her peripheral vision. It wasn't an act of confusion, though…She wasn't sure what it was an act of.

"I am guessing you want to know why you are here, apart from the fact that you know of Cobra and are a valuable asset to me. You want to know the _details_ of your mission?" At his possessive wording, and stating that she was 'his', Sage set her jaw quietly, irritated. But when the word 'mission' left his mouth, her gaze snapped to his face quickly, and she waited for him to continue. At her positive response, he smirked, clasping his hands neatly before him as he rested an elbow on the railing and pressed a shoulder to the glass, his eyes never leaving her face.

Sage drew her hands from her snowboard and clasped them before her also, arching a brow in question. Storm Shadow's smile widened, and then he pulled away from the clear barrier and metal decoration—it was the only use the railing really served—and passed around behind her, advancing toward a door. He opened the wooded obstruction and gestured out into the empty hall. "Come." Then his eyes swept to her board as she hovered reluctantly beside it. "And do not worry; a maid will transfer it to your room." Then his gaze travelled up her form and into her eyes, glinting mysteriously, as he said deceptively, "I am sure you are just _dying_ to know your purpose here."

Unable to resist her curious itch anymore, Sage discarded her snowboard in the corner of the room and approached him, to which he smiled widely and escorted her out of the room and down a few halls.

She was finally getting some answers.

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**Author's Note:** Chapter six done and dusted! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and to those who will! Your support is greatly appreciated! :D You guys are awesome, and Sage says thanks, too! :]


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I am **not** Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do **not** own his works. What I **ADD** into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the **original** themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Tossing open the large mahogany doors with a brash sort of authority—which wasn't too astounding for Sage seeing as he was a ninja—Storm Shadow stepped to the side and signalled for her to enter. Glancing at him, she then let her gaze roam about the room. Something in the back of her mind pricked at the familiarity of the setting, and when her eyes landed on the line of papers scattered chaotically over the red carpet, she couldn't help but snicker. Her eyes travelling upward, she stared at the mass of pens sunken deep into the roof, before dropping her gaze to the thick desk before her. She remembered, purely out of anger, how she'd picked up that iron paperweight and hurled it at the wall. Turning, as if viewing the event firsthand while she stepped further into the space, she spotted the hole and chip in the wood beside the doors and smirked; nobody had been in here since she'd destroyed the orderly arrangement of things.

The doors slammed shut as she made her way deep into the room, and her gaze shot to Storm Shadow as he advanced toward her. His gaze was shady as he turned it from her face to the papers, then the pens, and then the damage to the wall, before looking back at her and arching a brow. She stepped away from him uneasily as he moved—or rather, stalked—across the ground, rapidly covering the distance between them with each long, powerful stroke of his legs. His hands were loose at his sides, and his face was calm as he progressed; but that didn't mean he wasn't ready, _or_ happy. In fact, Sage bet he was just _steaming_ on the inside, and her cocky retort at his progress probably wasn't helping.

"Mister Ninja a bit shitty today, is he? Oh, hold up; hold up, my bad..." She cleared her throat mockingly, lifting her chin slightly, her voice diplomatic as she delivered her next sentence. "It seems to have come to my attention that this rather _fierce_ glare we are receiving today is solely the product of a rainfall of pens striking the roof, a strong metallic object damaging the wall, and a puff of white feathers from an exploding stack of papers hitting the floor. I apologise _dearly_, ladies and gentlemen, if you experience any sort of discomfort as the world's best-class assassin prowls predatorily toward me—oh, no, he's drawing a knife. My bad, he wants to make my death as quick as possible." Unable to react fast enough, Sage froze as Storm Shadow wrapped a gloved hand around the back of her neck and raised a throwing dagger to place against her throat—a new weapon she had yet to familiarise herself with against her skin. She'd been held under that many weapons in her lifetime she wasn't too sure which blade she'd met and which she hadn't, but, looking over the dagger as best she could, it seemed far too polished to have been used before. So, she greeted it.

That was a smart move, considering how the ninja's fingers tightened at the back of her neck and made her cringe. "Must you _always_ be so _sarcastic?_" He hissed at her, his breath clouding out about her face. She raised her hands innocently—although the expression she wore made the action more derogatory than harmless—and shrugged.

"Sarcasm is a part of me, Stormy. Don't like it? Not my problem."

The ninja's gaze darkened at her taunting, and he leaned his face close, his teeth flashing as he readied himself to snarl at her. But after his gaze flickered briefly over her shoulder, he, for some unknown reason, composed himself and stepped back, withdrawing his dagger.

Frowning, Sage turned her head and gazed around the room, spotting two figures paired quietly beside the fireplace that was now blazing warm firelight. The flames cast wholehearted shadows across their features as she watched them, flushing their skin and sparkling their eyes as they had their heads bent close together. She could hear only slightly how they spoke—low and animated, maybe even lovey-dovey, and their bodily gestures were affectionate, touchy-feely. It took Sage a moment to recognise the woman as Baroness, and the male beside her, upon closer inspection, was an enthusiastic Blood Claw, who spoke with a face full of expression.

Pondering silently, it took Sage another minute to understand why what she was seeing was so wrong: ninjas were supposed to be cold and indifferent, and that kid was _way_ too young for a cougar like Baroness.

Sage frowned, and the doors opened quietly behind her, before slamming shut with a loud, hollow _boom_. The sound spurred her deeper into the room as her gaze lingered on the figures beside the fire, and their heads shot up at the racket. Baroness' eyes immediately drew over to Storm Shadow, as did Blood Claw's, before they both noticed the only blonde in the room. Together, they smirked, and the action between them was strangely similar.

Catching movement to her left, Sage turned her gaze from the two and watched as Storm Shadow accepted a steel suitcase from a black-and-white clad woman. Her outfit was petite and neat, with white polka dots and an apron at the front. As she spun around and clicked away noisily on thin, short heels, opening the door once more, Sage had to snort. So, Storm Shadow's maids were dressing themselves in the attire she only ever saw on television shows centred on times sixty years ago? How befitting…She turned to tell him just that, before she paused and then fell silent at the sight before her.

Hovering somewhat transparently in the air, a blue-tinted figure watched her quietly. His face was grave, lined with age, and pale. The hair atop his head was thinning, but the suit clothing his strong body was defined and clean—perhaps new? He held an old wisdom in his eyes that seemed to weigh down his heavy brows, shadowing his gaze as it scanned the room before him. And his drastic appearance, she had to admit, was both shocking and aweing.

Sage had watched enough television, read enough newspapers, and heard enough social gossip to know that this authoritative phenomenon before her was none other than the President of America. And he was standing here, right now before her, in a bluish sort of haze, in Storm Shadow's office…Why did that seem so inappropriate?

"The…what is the President doing in here?" She stumbled over her words, amazement transfixing her mind. She couldn't stop staring at him; this was the closest she'd ever been to the Man of Power. It was somewhat daunting, standing before somebody that managed to run a whole country so smoothly—with help, of course. But still…

Smirking at her question, Storm Shadow held out an arm and silently gestured to the black lounge positioned elegantly near the fireside. Sage hadn't noticed that before, but then again, she didn't know how quickly people moved about in here, or how long she was down in that hell with Baroness.

Never tearing her gaze from the President, Sage made her way deftly toward the couch. Turning and taking an uneasy seat at the edge, she held the man's gaze until a husky chuckle broke her concentration. Looking at Baroness, she arched an insubordinate brow, demanding _what_ was so funny. Shaking her head, the German remained silent, but not without composing her expression into a shit-eating grin. And beside her, Blood Claw was sniggering quietly.

Sage's teeth grinded as she watched them; but only for a moment, because Storm Shadow then took it upon himself to speak directly at her, and as she moved her head to look at him, her gaze swept over the President—who, oddly, had been very silent. His gaze, however, was intense, and it spoke a million words of wisdom. Wisdom she'd never need to possess, but would be intrigued in nonetheless.

"The President is not actually _in_ this room, Sage." Storm Shadow looked at her, demanding her to stay quiet when she went to open her mouth and question his sanity. "And I am _appalled_ that you failed to connect the dots: a suitcase and the sudden appearance of a blue-coloured figure? How inattentive…" He shook his head, somewhat disgusted, and then sighed. Sage sat silently, fuming on the inside. What the hell was she supposed to think? "This is a hologram, Sage." She looked between the ninja and the President, and her lips popped open in surprise.

Well, that explained why he was kind of blue…

"I am sure you know what a hologram is?" He continued, and she rolled her eyes at the question.

"I may not be rich like you, Storm Shadow, but I do know the majority of today's recent technology."

"You just have not encountered much of it yet." He stated quietly, arching a challenging brow. Sage sunk back further into the couch and crossed her right leg over the other, shrugging, her indifferent mood transferring the message, _So? Who gives a fuck?_ Although the mention of 'yet' had her wary.

Having caught her, Storm Shadow's smirk widened. "And this figure here is not, in any way of true shape or form, the President of America." Silence spread over the room as Sage stared between them. Her face was disbelieving, her eyes derisive. She glanced over at Baroness and Blood Claw, but they didn't seem to be questioning Storm Shadow's statement…How _couldn't_ they? The hologram sure as hell looked like the President. What were they taking, crack?

Storm Shadow sighed again, and Sage's jaw tensed. _He_ was the one growing tired? She was the one seemingly held in the dark! What was this, Pity the Ninja day?

If the hologram wasn't of the President, it could only be a disguise, and she only knew one person still alive that could keep up such a deceiving mask.

"This figure in the hologram, Sage, is of Zartan undercover as the President."

Sage smirked, a little wryly. "Of course it is." And at her comment, Baroness rolled her eyes. Shifting beside her, Blood Claw shook his head, looking at Storm Shadow raptly.

"_You don't seem all that surprised to see me, Sage_." The President—sorry, Zartan—remarked cynically. She watched his eyes travel the length of her form, before lifting them to glance uneasily about the room. Frowning, Sage twisted in her seat and surveyed the area, spotting nothing. That was strange. Why would he need to be so nervous about being a hologram in this office? It was Storm Shadow's private space, and judging by how everyone treated him, the ninja was King around here. He'd silence anyone that tried to gossip…

Turning back to look at the man, Sage tilted her head curiously. His gaze was unfocused as he moved his head around, and the faintest sound of footsteps seemed to echo out from the device his figure materialized from. She frowned, noticing the clean curtained window behind him, and suspected that perhaps the footsteps were out in the hall near his office. And maybe that was why he was glancing around: not around Storm Shadow's office, but around his own, keeping an edgy look out. Obviously, it was very difficult impersonating the President—not that Sage had ever tried.

Surveying the limited view behind Zartan, she came to another conclusion: if she could only see part of the room behind his back, there was no way he could see the whole of Storm Shadow's office. So, again, he must be gauging for threats in his own environment.

Settling back in her seat, Sage watched him idly before he seemed to ease out of his readied stance and turn back to her. His gaze, for most of this time, had stayed on her. Why wasn't he looking at the others?

_Because they probably already know what he's going to talk about_, a snarky voice in her mind hissed. Silently, she squashed it with her wit.

"_You are probably wondering what I am doing disguised as the President, aren't you?"_ The Pres—sorry, _Zartan_—murmured quietly, voice rough as he stepped a little closer to the device on his end.

Wasn't he perceptive? Sage rolled her eyes.

"_I can't stay long, but I can say this: it is all part of a mission we have designed for you_."

_For me?_ Sage questioned herself, frowning softly.

"_It will not be _just_ you, so don't let the specialty fly to your already-oversized ego, but you will play a vital role in this assignment_." Once again, he fell quiet and scanned the invisible room Sage couldn't see. Bringing his eyes back to her face, he took another step to the item capturing his portrait and muttered, "_We're turning them against G. I. Joe_."

_Them?_ Who was 'them'? Sage shook her head, conveying her confusion, before Zartan—without any form of warning—leapt forward and brazenly reached out to the communicative device on his end. Reacting on instinct, Sage shot to her feet and flew sideways, startled at the man's impulsive action. An insignificant portion of her mind told her he wasn't reaching for her—she knew that; holograms were mere pictures of air—but her self-preservation overruled all rational thought.

Realising, now that she was standing tensed and ready like the fool she was for responding so, she watched as Zartan picked up something in his office that threw off his image and cut out part of his body—most likely the device permitting his hologram. Finding it comical, in a way, she watched quietly as his hand sneaked around behind the object and flicked at something.

And then, just like that, his image vanished—but not before the sound of footsteps and voices carried out over the connection, ringing in Sage's ears.

…Had he just been caught?

Looking at Storm Shadow, Sage watched as he stood for a few moments in tense silence, before striding over to the desk and picking up the small device that, no doubt, Zartan would have had on his end too. Twisting it on his palm, he slid a nail at a switch, and the small blue light striking his white suit disappeared.

Holding the device for a time, Storm Shadow finally lifted his gaze and glanced over the trio near the fire—somehow, Sage had made it over to Baroness and Blood Claw. They stared back at him uneasily, questions filling their eyes that Storm Shadow simply shrugged away, and looking at Sage, his face and voice became composed. "So, now for your mission."

The second day here—or maybe it was still the first?—and Sage was already getting pinned a task. Not only that, but Zartan could have just gotten caught for talking to them, and Storm Shadow brushed it off like it was nothing. Talk about coldheartedly fast-moving…

But, she guessed, as she lifted her gaze and looked up at the white-clad ninja, Storm Shadow wouldn't have it any other way.

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**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed or added this story/myself to alerts or favourites; your support is greatly appreciated! :D I'd love to hear you view on this chapter, too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I am not Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do not own his works. What I ADD into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the original themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

"Your mission is complicated."

The hearth's flames at Sage's back increased the temperature of her skin to a sweltering degree as she stood uneasily beneath Storm Shadow's scrutinising gaze. With the hologram device still clutched in his hands, he faced her with a severe expression, his dark eyes, like usual, unreadable. She had no idea why he was studying her in such a way – perhaps judging her worth for such a task she hadn't even heard about yet? She didn't know; she never did when it came to him.

Shifting her stare from Storm Shadow, Sage glanced across at Baroness and Blood Claw, who, like before, were stock-still and silent. In fact, they were so submissive that Sage felt like she was missing out on something glaringly obvious. Something to do with how the Head Ninja went about things in his own way – this place was, after all, his territory. There was no Cobra stopping him from what he wanted, and no one brave enough to hinder his actions – well, not that she knew. He could do whatever he wanted, and Sage had yet to see what he would do with her. And regarding the two silent figures, she knew it wouldn't be gentle and caring.

He'd drill her long and hard, because she had the feeling he wasn't very light in his teachings. She'd had a taste back at Cobra H.Q.

And as she thought that, Sage could feel Storm Shadow's heavy gaze settled solely on her. It made her uneasy, self-conscious, and even a little threatened. He was, after all, a noxious ninja.

A ninja – what more was there to explain? His lethal skills were highly respected among those of the Criminal World, or those that believed such a race existed, and right now, she did. She had proof.

As Storm Shadow continued to stare, Baroness and Blood Claw turned their heads also to look at Sage. It was entertaining, in a way, to watch these compatible two follow the older ninja like sheep. But when they jerked their heads a little – a signal for Sage to turn her attention back to Storm Shadow – all humorous thoughts left her mind. She stole herself for a second, because she didn't really feel like obeying, until rational thought won over. Sighing, she caved; slowly turning her head – more to avoid upsetting her stiff neck than anything – she met the shady gaze of the demanding ninja.

And his expression wasn't happy.

Internally, Sage groaned. What had she done _now?_

"But before we begin, do you have any questions?"

Moving away from the fire – as she felt it was about ready to melt her skin, although it was nice on her taut muscles – Sage tried to formulate a response. In all respect, she had _many_ questions, but how long would Storm Shadow's patience last?

About as long as a piece of string…Maybe twice as long as half its length, or four times as long as a quarter of its length – if she _really_ wanted to be tricky.

The room was silent as Sage mutely entertained herself. All eyes – well, all three sets in the room – were focused on her, and Storm Shadow's expression was beginning to attain the first signs of impatience. Darkened eyes, a hard-set straight-lined mouth, the small creases of confusion or irritation between his brows, the firm setting of his jaw…

Sighing, Sage spoke the thought aggravating her the most. "How the _hell_ could the President be Zartan?" She'd seen him, she knew and it was plausible at the time, but now she was having difficulty grasping the concept. He may have been able to _physically_ disguise himself, but what about emotionally, _personally?_ The President was a secretive man to the public; Zartan couldn't just waltz in there. The authorities, those that had been close to him for years, would become suspicious. He'd be too different.

Storm Shadow's lips twitched and he glanced shrewdly over at Baroness and Blood Claw. "Sage, why would we speak to the _real_ President? He is a man of power with a pure mindset – he cannot afford to be corrupted, and in his eyes G. I. Joe is an ally. They are part of his country's defence, he trusts them, and he knows that we – former Cobra weapons – are to be killed. If we spoke to the _real_ President, what do you think would happen?"

Sage looked down as Storm Shadow met her gaze, his eyes taunting. She gritted her teeth, calming herself. He just didn't _understand_, did he? He wasn't getting her! "He would refuse to talk to us, and if he didn't do that he would try to track us down to kill us."

"_Exactly_," Storm Shadow settled. "So that hologram was, indeed, Zartan."

Sage shook her head, scowling. Raising her eyes, she grinded her teeth slightly. Why was it so difficult to _explain?_ "But how did he get those _eyes?_ That voice? They were identical to the President's. Everything about him seemed too…_authentic!_"

"He is a world-class master of disguise, Sage," Storm Shadow explained patiently, maybe even derisively, as he moved over to the desk once again and busied himself in storing away the little hologram device in its suitcase. His strong fingers seized the lid and clicked the case shut, before he lifted his gaze to look at her. "He is one of the best in the world, so it is only natural he can act the part."

"But…But you can't change your _eyes!_ No actor can do that!"

A small, knowing smile curved his lips up at her difficulty to grasp the concept, before he sighed and drew his hands behind his back. Turning, he prowled toward the fire, closing the distance between Baroness, Blood Claw and himself. The younger ninja somewhat straightened his stance as Storm Shadow approached, and Sage found that quite interesting. It was like watching a soldier snapping to attention when a general made an appearance. Then again, for all she knew of Ninja Law, Storm Shadow was a general – or Master, as Blood Claw had called him.

He didn't voice an opinion to her statement, but his eyes taunted her, challenged her, forced her to question what she thought was logical. In his eyes – the eyes of an advanced killer – her beliefs were silly and most likely easily proven wrong. And when she'd had the stereotypical thought that ninjas, due to the ancient origins, only fought with swords and throwing stars and basic tools used for distractions, it surprised her immensely when she considered him using all this new technology. Was her view of ninjas really _that_ out-dated?

Sage closed her eyes for a few moments, grimacing, trying to persuade herself that the President was indeed Zartan – was it just her, or was that thought confusing and completely intolerable?

Sighing, she opened her eyes once more and let her gaze roam over Baroness, who was sneering at her, Blood Claw, who was smirking, and Storm Shadow, whose gaze was completely cryptic. Huffing, she threw all rational, naïve thoughts out the window. "Then where is the _real_ President?"

"Here." His answer was simple, _too_ simple. It made her suspicious, agitated –

And stunned. Sage blinked, her mouth dropping open in shock. Had she heard right? "_Here?_"

"Yes, here."

Her brows drew together reluctantly. "How did you get him _here?_"

"It was simple, really."

His words tugged at her nerves and she threw her hands up, all patience worn thin, and then quickly regretted the action when her neck screamed in protest. Grimacing, she slowly lowered her arms, the pain fuelling her irritation. "_Again_ with the simplicity! I don't care _how_ simple it was – you're a fucking ninja for god's sake, of _course_ it's simple, but that doesn't mean it is for the rest of us! I just want to know 'how', Storm Shadow. _How!_ _How_ the _fuck_ did you get him _here?_"

Aggravatingly, the small smirk making its way across Storm Shadow's lips expressed his amusement for Sage's outburst, and upon seeing his contempt, Sage snarled. Fisting her hands in her hair, she forced herself through the muscular discomfort and slammed her eyes shut.

Storm Shadow sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Take a seat, Sage." And at his commanding tone, her eyes snapped open and she lifted her head to spit something rude, before she caught the hard glint in his eyes. He would give her answers, but she would have to conform. Grumbling, she moved over and sat down, curious that Baroness and Blood Claw had remained standing. Then again, they probably didn't want to share a couch with her – not that she cared.

Stepping around the front of the desk to face her, Storm Shadow eased himself onto the smooth wooden surface and clasped his hands together professionally. Out of her peripheral vision, Sage saw Baroness and Blood Claw pull up two extravagant chairs resting against the room's wall and position them somewhat near the fire, Baroness crossing one leg over the other and Blood Claw sitting normal – although graciously. They both held their spines straight and their shoulders back, expressing how extremely trained they were, and Sage couldn't help but feel out-of-place with her lazy position – not that she would change it.

Storm Shadow, noticing her observations, nodded his head. "If you wish to not be hunchbacked when you are older, Sage, I would suggest you sit like Baroness and Blood Claw."

Sage gave him an incredulous look. Who did he think she was, his dog? If he thought that, she sure as hell wasn't going to fetch any bone for him. He could do that himself, the lazy prick.

The white-clad ninja shrugged at her silence, shifting his position slightly before looking at her again. "Suit yourself."

"I will."

And just as quickly as that argument began, it stopped. Storm Shadow leaned forward, his strong build moving sinuously, even if the movement was just small. Sage took him in – not for the first time – and then scowled at his arrogant sneer. "You wish to know how we brought the President here."

Sage remained silent; thinking her outburst earlier was understandable enough. Even though it wasn't phrased as a question, did he still need more explanation? She thought he was smart, or at least understood that when somebody was screaming at you it meant they wanted something, hated something, or just downright felt like abusing you.

Then again, being insensitive, the insults probably flew over his head.

"Zartan has been in Congress, ascertaining role as the President, for two weeks and five days now." Sage's brows rose in surprise. So he hadn't even been in there all that long, and he was running the threat of exposure? Great disguise _he_ was. "As for kidnapping the real President, the four of us managed to do that – Baroness, Blood Claw, Zartan and myself. Indeed, it was very difficult and exceedingly risky, but danger is what we ninja are bred for, and what Baroness," Storm Shadow's gaze travelled over to the slender German woman, and she in turn glanced at Blood Claw, who's expression was a mix between delight and disgust. "Has had to adjust to." flickering his gaze back to Sage, she found the spectacle odd, but his eyes sealed over once more, forbidding any further questioning.

"It was at night when we acted. There were cameras, but there was less chance they would see us coming from afar, even if they did have night vision." The awkwardness in the atmosphere seemed to fade as Storm Shadow spoke, his charismatic voice taking on the captivating tone used for children's stories – well, not so trivial, but his words were drawing. "At first, Blood Claw took down a guard on patrol on the east side of the building where there was less light, as that side of the building was unoccupied at the time. Being talented in his disguises, Zartan then quickly ascertained the identity of that guard. They did this by luring the guard out of the camera ranges – which, before you retort, _yes_, not every inch of the President's house is guarded. Although there were more cameras there than seems healthy for the environment, and many alarm sensors, in the end everything has a flaw, does it not?"

_You don't_. Sage was about to retort, so ready to prove him wrong, but the glimmer in his eyes stopped her short. It was like he _knew_ what she was thinking, and he _knew_ she was wrong.

The ninja, for once, was confessing a weakness. He was confessing he _had_ a weakness, even if it he never spoke it aloud and she never knew what it was.

But why would he do that? His expression didn't show trust, but it didn't show hostility.

_Well_, she supposed, _an enemy's weakness is only useful if you know how to manipulate it_. And that, right there, was her answer. He had a weakness, but she didn't know what it was, so what use was his confession?

There was no use, except maybe to taunt her. Sage huffed and leaned back in the couch, waiting, and Storm Shadow smirked.

"Like always, it was perfect timing – we had been watching the cameras for some time. How? _How_ had we watched when the grounds were cleared of trees and there was no cover from exposure? We stole one of G. I. Joe's Enhancer Suits." An expression passed over Sage's face that made Storm Shadow pause as she took in this new information.

_Enhancer Suit_…she had heard the name before, when she was taken to the Joe base. Her eyes snapped up as a memory surfaced, and she grinned. "Those Enhancer Suits that improve a human's physical ability beyond the norm and can act as camouflage – "

"By a transparent coating around the outfit that reflects and refracts light so you look _almost_ invisible? Yes." Baroness' smug voice cut through Sage's words and made her stiffen as she cast a glare at the haughty black-haired woman, who flashed a sweet smile and moved her legs to switch which knee was crossing over which.

"The key word here is 'almost'," Storm Shadow continued, ignoring the silent rivalry between the women. Turning her head back to the ninja, the blonde-haired assassin remained silent, listening to more of the story. "As the suits 'almost' make you invisible, it was still very risky." He gave her a look, having seemed to read her thoughts again, which were downgrading the perilousness of kidnapping the President if they had a concealing suit with them. "We could move freely, but we still had to be careful. Of course, at night, the difficulty was decreased even more, but with the sensors on the grounds, we could still set off alarms. The suits _camouflage_ someone; they do not make us disappear."

"I think I know what 'camouflage' means, Storm Shadow," Sage cut in dryly. "I'm not that blonde."

The silence that settled between them after her statement had Sage second-guessing his respect toward her, but she kept her mouth shut. The challenging expression in his eyes danced, and she jutted out her chin arrogantly.

"I did not say you were, Sage."

"I did!" Baroness chimed, Blood Claw sniggering quietly at her side. Sage snapped her head around, her expression contorting in pain before she had a chance to respond. Cursing gently under her breath, she placed a hand to her neck and pressed on the muscles, cringing as they complained.

"Blood Claw was the one to wear the suit and the one to lure away the guard when the very brief lapse of two cameras in their security scan of the grounds occurred. Stepping over the physical sensors lining the grounds in a predictable, methodical way, he stepped onto 'safe ground', or rather, the ground free of sensors that the guards occupied, and took him down. Quickly, he disabled the two cameras in a way that seemed more of a glitch, or a freeze to a system, than intended damage. Zartan then took this time to briskly make his way over and pull on the guard's uniform. Blood Claw was then given two minutes to escape with the body before other personnel were alerted and travelled around to that side of the building, only to see that the camera had frozen up instead of flailed.

"Retreating to our hidden location, which indeed was the water fountain centred on the front lawn right before the White House, shrouded in shadow, the flowers lining the wall concealed us from all cameras. Of course, Blood Claw only crouched beside us – being camouflaged, he did not need to hide, and we are not sure if the suit is waterproof. Do not ask me how we got there, that is too detailed a story. But we had given Zartan orders to, once he was dismissed from his shift and stepped inside, to discreetly make his way toward the control room. Wearing gloves, they couldn't hope to trace his fingerprints, and when the robotic buzz of the security camera whirring to our left from time to time stopped, and the red light on the machine faded, we knew he was successful. While in that control room, he also cut the power to all lights throughout the House, and when we saw that, and took in the fact that the grounds were now _completely_ dark, we made our way inside.

"Manoeuvring about the house was simple. We knew it would take some time for the workers to get the power up and running again, and we needed every spare second we could take. We had given Zartan orders to make his way to the President's room when everything has been set up, and so we met him there – avoiding all populated halls as much as possible. The President was not alone, as expected, but Zartan had restrained the sentry silently until we arrived. Pressing a specific pressure point, I sedated and erased his short-term memory, which consisted of all happenings within an hour before sedation. When he woke, Zartan would be disguised as the President and reassure the man that he had fainted, and was perhaps suffering a mild concussion.

"Working quickly, we took out the waterproof case that held Zartan's disguise and pulled on the fake skin mask that was an exact replica of the President's – before this night, we had spent a long time perfecting the mask to every wrinkle we saw on the President's face. We had used all available footage to make a skin model. Zartan also put in specialised contacts to not only change his eye colour, but to obtain a clone of the President's actual eyes, which we scanned and copied while he was pulling on the suit – this was why his eyes were so authentic, because they were duplicates of the real President's. He also put on a wig to match the President's – as I am sure you know all of this is part of a disguise." Sage rolled her eyes, expressing her exasperation on such a question, of _course_ she knew.

"Stripping the President of his clothes so Zartan could put them on, after applying the padding we had made to thicken his build in the right places, we gagged the President, wrapped him up in a bathrobe and pressed on a pressure point to sedate him. Baroness, Blood Claw and myself then made it out of the White House while all electricity was still down. By the time the lights came back on and the cameras began working once more, we were gone and Zartan had attained his role as President."

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**Author's Note:** I've put a lot of thought into this chapter to make the kidnapping of the President which Storm Shadow explained realistic – or as realistic as G. I. Joe and Cobra can get (I've also made up a few things), and I'm sorry this chapter didn't turn out to be the explanation of Sage's mission, but I felt some background info was needed first. Any reviews/feedback on this or anything else is welcome, and thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and added this story or myself to favourites and/or alerts, your support is awesome.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I am not Stephen Sommers (director of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) and so therefore I do not own his works. What I ADD into the story is mine (example: different characters, the plot, etc.) but the original themes, ideas, plots, characters, script, etc. are solely the works of this awesome, famous person, and his associates.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Leaning back into the couch, Sage sat in stunned silence. The ninja's plan was good, it was a success, and they had broken into the White House without a flaw – or maybe he just left the flaws out, she wouldn't put it past him. And slowly, she was beginning to welcome the belief that Zartan was President, and that was a creepy thought by itself. She looked down to her hands folded calmly in her lap and shook her head, before more questions popped up.

"So how did you get the Enhancer Suits?"

Storm Shadow shuffled back a little further to gain more seating purchase on the desk as he faced Sage, his pleasant expression contrasting significantly with his contemptuous eyes. "A few years before you joined Cobra, we were given a mission to intercept a G. I. Joe entourage. They had one of the suits with them, not being worn at the time, and when Baroness caused a distraction, I raided the transport for the suit – that was our aim the whole time, to steal one of G. I. Joe's newest technologies. Cobra had been eyeing off the suit for some time, and luckily enough that night, Snake Eyes was not with them. He was away somewhere else, so sneaking around was very easy, especially since they were just finely-trained soldiers, not warriors bred to fight against a ninja."

Sage snorted, shaking her head to herself. '_Just_ finely-trained soldiers' her arse! Those soldiers were some of the best in the country; otherwise Hawk would have never recruited them. Then again, Storm Shadow was a whole new class of lethal.

Lapsing back into thought, Sage slowly bowed her head, grimacing against the ever-present stiff pain in her neck. She mulled over the information, more scepticism rising up. "But…doesn't the President have a wife and children?" she raised her head, looking at Storm Shadow doubtfully.

The ninja's lips quirked in humour, but resisted the mocking smirk Sage was sure he wanted to display. Arrogant bastard... "Had you no access to the outside world while in jail, Sage?"

"Well, considering Alcatraz prison is on a secluded island, then no, Storm Shadow, I didn't." Heavy sarcasm seeped through her words as a defensive instinct rose in her, her blood irked by his teasing. "I mean, I was there for life, so why would I care what was going on in the wider world? I had my own little world to worry about inside those dingy walls."

There was a brief, uncomprehending silence before Storm Shadow spoke. "A lot has changed in five years, Sage. The President has divorced, and his wife and children have left the White House to live elsewhere. So in that respect, Zartan can avoid the wife finding out, and this was extremely useful timing, in my opinion."

Sage looked away, toward the fire as she let the flame heat warm her skin. Despite the fact that a family was broken up, she had to be grateful for the event, because it made Zartan's disguise even harder to detect. And it wasn't so much that she cared for the undercover criminal, but more that if they were found out, the prison would know that the 'Hawk' who had sprung her from jail wasn't the real deal – if they hadn't figured it out already…

Sage glanced at Baroness and Blood Claw, the two silent figures simply staring at her as she digested so much information. When her eyes finally travelled back to the ninja, he was waiting, expecting her to question his ways. It was only natural.

"But what if Zartan slips up? The role he's taking from the real man is well-established and highly secretive. There'll be things he doesn't know, that he should."

"Zartan is a quick learner, he will learn the ropes to governing a country soon enough." Sage snorted at his words and shook her head. He made it sound so easy, so simple – as if what they were doing wasn't wrong, or pressuring.

"If he isn't found out first…" she muttered to herself. Storm Shadow, picking up on her stubborn disbelief, sighed and leaned forward. He braced his skilful hands back against the edge of the table as he once again demanded Sage's sole attention, and she reluctantly gave it to him – someone so dominant was not easy to ignore.

However, that was before Baroness, the sly she-demon, spoke up. "What do you believe we have been doing for the past five years while you confined yourself to jail?" Her words were clipped, butting in and nastily retorting to Sage's curt statement, the latter of which bared her teeth.

"I didn't _confine_ myself, I was _put_ there, you unscrupulous bitch! Besides, I can see _you've_ been _doing_ _someone_." she directed her gaze between Baroness and Blood Claw, and the German woman was the first to make the link. In a shriek of outrage, her expression distorted in disgust, with Blood Claw's expression morphing into repulsion and horror soon after, setting wild eyes on Sage.

"_I did no such thi_ – "

"This is _not_ to be an argument about Sage's doings in the prison, or of Baroness' sexual adventures outside!" Storm Shadow barked, his deep voice slicing through the tension rising between the two rival females. Turning to him, he cast them each a disappointed look – which seemed softened by something he found silently amusing – and then continued. "These past five years, we have been gathering information on the President. Spying, waiting, searching, we have gradually collected a broad range of information."

"But how does he know the secrets of the Parliament that not even some of the highest authorities know?"

At her question, quiet chuckles from Baroness and Blood Claw reached Sage's ears. Her gaze darkened in irritation, but she kept her eyes on Storm Shadow as his lips turned into a sneer, giving Sage the feeling that she was supposed to recall something he'd already told her in order for her to understand what he would say. "We have ways of making the President talk."

His statement threw her off guard, making her confused. _The_ President, or the President? There was a fine line between deciphering if he was talking about the real thing or the joke, but an expression in his eyes – a dark heaviness – made her realise.

He meant the true President. The one they had brought back here.

Did they torture him? Sage's eyes widened in shock upon the realisation. Not only had they stolen one of the country's strongest influences, they had _harmed_ him? Wasn't that just a _little_ too drastic?

And had such a powerful, responsible man _broken?_ "Wait…he _cracked?_"

"He is not a weak man, Sage," Storm Shadow was quick to scold her appalled expression. "He is strong, and he suits his role – a country needs a sensible leader to run so smoothly. But no man is invincible. At some stage, we all crack, and so the President spouted his guts rather than turning to insanity – although some men have gone for the latter."

Sage shivered, goose bump lining her arms and expressing her silent horror to Storm Shadow's words. His methods would have been cruel, strategic and manipulative. She had no doubt that the ninja could be a powerful influence when needed.

Trying to distract herself from such barbaric thoughts, she voiced her next question. "So…where is the real President? Here, I mean?"

Storm Shadow's gaze became shady as a knowing smile spread across his lips, making Sage drop her eyes from his piercing gaze. Was he trying to unnerve her? Warn her? Maybe even threaten her?

"Residing in a lavish room guarded by two of my most highly skilled, highly trusted men."

"Ninjas, you mean," she muttered quietly, before surprise took over her expression at the white-clad ninja's reference to luxury.

At Sage's shocked look, he arched a brow. "What? I am not so void of hospitality that I wish to kill my prisoner. If we treat him gentle, then he is not so hardened and resilient to our means of torture. By getting him used to, and then taking him away from, a luxurious life, the torture is all the more effective."

Sage had to admit, as much as it was horrible thought, that his tactics were very clever.

The silence over the room was suffocating as Sage once again lapsed into thought. When she finally lifted her head and took in her surroundings, she noticed that Baroness and Blood Claw had moved from their chairs to stand by the fire, and Storm Shadow had vanished from his position on the desk. Frowning at having allowed herself to zone out so carelessly – especially with two noxious ninjas about – Sage scanned the room before her for any signs of the white-clad man. But he was gone.

Uneasiness twisted in her gut as she gazed about, and then stiffened when the cool sharpness of a blade slid gently across her throat, touching her skin but not drawing blood. Her teeth ground in irritation, how could she have been so easily snuck up on?

Well, quite easily considering the voice to whisper in her ear was Storm Shadow's. "We need to work on your skills, don't we? You have become sloppy from Alcatraz, fighting against heavy-footed enemies. You did not even need to strain to hear their movements. Your skills have dulled." The discontent she detected in his voice made her defensive hackles rise, and she felt as her lips curled slightly, flashing her teeth before she spoke, her voice a hiss.

"Well, considering I didn't ever think I'd wind up working with a ninja again, it kind of gave me a reason to why I let myself _relax_." _And if looks could kill_, she thought silently afterwards, feeling the hatred clear in her eyes, _you'd be dead_.

Then again, if the ninja didn't die from being stabbed in the chest and dumped in a frozen ocean, what would kill him?

"No real assassin _ever_ relaxes," the ninja hissed back just as fierce, and his words struck home. Sage's nostrils flared in rage at his accusation, and her hands fisted themselves before the edge of the blade dug a little deeper, adding to the pain that had blossomed deep inside. "And if you want to survive, you must stay _focussed_."

Obviously, he was taking a jab at her careless distraction beforehand.

And then the blade vanished, along with the extra warmth near her back. Remaining still, Sage closed her eyes in humiliation and took a deep, calming breath, forcing her fingers to unfold and consciously making her muscles relax back into the couch. When she opened her eyes once again, Storm Shadow was positioned against the desk once more, as if he had never moved.

But Baroness and Blood Claw were snickering quietly by the fire, and they were _just_ loud enough for Sage to hear. Assholes…

Taking a few more moments, she finally gave into the burning curiosity of the whole reason why she was here. "So…what's my mission?"

"You are to go undercover."

"Okay…" that bombshell wasn't as big as she'd expected. She'd gone undercover a number of times before she met Cobra – sure, she wasn't specialised in that area, but in some stages of her work it had been required, and so she'd done it. But Storm Shadow's mysterious statement had her wary and the glint in his eyes had her expecting something…more…

"For G. I. Joe."

Now, _that_ wasn't something she had been expecting. And she frowned to make her confusion known. Undercover for the unit that had kidnapped her? She couldn't do that! She'd be found out on the first day! They knew her, how she moved, how she talked, and that Snake Eyes…if he was anywhere near as observant as Storm Shadow, he'd pick her out easily.

And then what? Alcatraz again? Or a death sentence?

"This is fucked…"

"Sage," Baroness reprimanded, and the blonde assassin snorted and rolled her eyes at the irony of Baroness' motherly character. What was wrong with her, to have the guts to lecture Sage? The woman was stupid.

"No, this is cunning," Storm Shadow's smile was deadly as Sage narrowed her gaze at him, and he tilted his head slightly in a challenge, smile growing. He had more to say, and Sage wasn't sure if she wanted to hear it. "And do not worry; your disguise will be perfect."

Well, Sage had to admit, that was slightly reassuring. The ninja was assiduous on a casual day.

Sighing, she cringed as she asked the next question. "So, how's this going to work? I just walk in under some random black-haired disguise; claim my name as 'Berta the cleaner' and get to work tearing down G. I. Joe from inside out? Spec_tacular_ considering that if my disguise is too flawless to fault, then the fact that a _prisoner_ from _Alcatraz_ has managed to escape, and then some _random_ person wanting a cleaning job in a secluded location a few days later shows up? Yeah, not _coincidental_ at _all_." She rolled her eyes, casting Storm Shadow a dry look, who seemed amused by her heated outburst. Well, she _had_ meant for the question to be serious, but then her agitation got in the way, and her sarcasm manifested…She never really was good at being courteous.

Serves the crazy bastard right, though.

"No Sage," she could hear the smile in his voice, and it rubbed the wrong way. "No one gets into G. I. Joe unless specifically selected by General Abernathy himself."

"Terrific! Then how do you suppose I get in? _Hmm?_" her agitation was rising as Storm Shadow taunted her patience, and they both knew it, but she couldn't help but react.

"There is a soldier – "

"There are _many_ soldiers, Stormy, and you'd be _wise_ to remember that. Might increase your I.Q. a tidbit, hey?"

"If you would hush for the _briefest_ of times to allow me to _clearly_ state your mission, then perhaps when you are thrown out into such an environment you will not be so immaturely equipped with your tongue that you will get yourself stupidly killed. Now stop with the impudent, childish remarks of my I.Q. which, I promise you, is much higher than your own, and listen before you get yourself stuck in an easily avoidable situation most non-blondes can evade."

Off in the background, Baroness' high-pitched whistle followed by an admirable sing-song tune of, "_Shut down!"_ made Sage slowly turn her head to glare over her shoulder.

Twiddle arse and twiddle dumbarse laughed. Insolent fuckers.

To say Sage was stunned by Storm Shadow's witty comeback was an understatement. But she still hated him. So crossing her arms, she scowled at the ninja, who smirked.

"Outstanding soldiers from a variety of places are noticed by G. I. Joe. The Joes are the elite of the forces; they are secretive and more advanced than the average army, as I suspect you had noticed from your time there."

"Maybe being surrounded by so much technology has raised her own I.Q.," Baroness spat at Sage's back, and the blonde tensed, ready to turn, before Storm Shadow gave her a belittling look. Would she really go as low as the German?

Hell no.

Well, if given the chance, maybe…

"Specific soldiers that, in particular, stand out are visited by General Abernathy. They are 'selected'; I suppose you could say to join the other Joes. We have taken notice of such an outstanding soldier, a woman. And we believe Abernathy to soon approach her with a position at the G. I. Joe base." Storm Shadow paused, letting the information sink in.

Sage wasn't so stupid she couldn't make the links. "So you want me to disguise myself as this 'outstanding' female soldier, accept Hawk's proposal, and get into G. I. Joe? To do what?"

Storm Shadow's slow smile gave it all away, "Exactly." But strangely enough, he ignored her last question. Another story for another day, perhaps?

Of course, it wasn't that simple when Sage thought about it. "What about Snake Eyes? He's pretty damn observant, even if I had a disguise he'd pick up how I walk or my voice…"

"That is what training is for. When you are ready, you will be the perfect clone of this woman." He had an answer to everything, didn't he? And not the most complimenting. Did he not see how _idiotic_ this plan was? How flawed? And she thought he had a high I.Q…

"But…it's Snake Eyes!" So she was grasping at straws.

"If we have managed to keep Zartan in Congress, fooling everyone, do you not believe we could get you into G. I. Joe? A base that would never expect you to return there, _voluntarily_, even if they already know you have escaped? They will not expect you, so they will not be looking for you, and it is hard to pick up something you are not looking for."

Maybe he had a high I.Q. for madness…

"But he's a _ninja!_"

"So am I."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry for how long it's been since updating! But thank you for those who have stuck with me, and I hope you liked this chapter. Reviews welcome!


	10. Author's Note

**Important Author's Note:**

Hello fellow readers,

I'm sorry about how cruel this A/N may seem, when you probably thought it was a chapter update, but I have to let you know that I'm going to be putting this story on 'HIATUS' until I've worked up enough ideas and motivation to continue writing it. I'm extremely sorry for this, but I'm just not that inclined to complete this story at the moment. Hopefully, in the future, I may find my motivation again, but until then, I am regretful to say that this story will be paused.

However, I want to say 'thank you' to everyone who has read, reviewed or added me and/or my stories to their favourites or alerts list, as I am sure you all know that your support was - and still is - very much appreciated. I am deeply grateful for your help, it has boosted my confidence immensely, but I just don't have the inspiration at the moment, and so I do not wish to waste your (or my) time with silly, non-plot chapters.

I know this type of thing (hiatus'ing) can really piss people off, and I'm sorry if I have, I didn't mean to.

But thank you, all of you. You're all awesome :)

Cheers,  
Shakaka


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